


Forsaken Tears

by KaiZer



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Conspiracy, Depression, During war mentions, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally repressed Heero, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Multi, PTSD, Post War, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, emotional duo maxwell, flash backs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiZer/pseuds/KaiZer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A link had formed under the words "Something in regards to Duo Maxwell and myself that I cannot understand" and it appeared to be attempting to open a hidden, buried sub folder somewhere in the recesses of his computer. Post War. When something in side of him is telling him that something is missing. Will Heero have the strength to delve into a buried past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters – am just borrowing for my own personal amusement  
> Warnings: Yaoi, Future angst  
> Pairings: 1x2 , 3x4

**February 21st After Colony 201**

The times of peace have been long and it has taken many a hard, gruesome transition to come to terms with things as they are now. It was a world devoid of massive weapons and battles to decide power as had been the way of the world in years previously. This has come to me just as hard as many of the men I have come to know in these times of peace. As it goes I, Heero Yuy, have slowly and through a great trail of personal growth have begun to find my place in this world.

However things not always been easy, it took some failures before I truly found where I belonged. For a time I worked in a position as Relena's protector. The job itself was something I was well equipped for. The woman was a political target and even in these times of peace, danger was not unheard of for someone in her position. It was thanks to having this place to start my life in this new world in, that I was truly able to settle into it where as many have not been able to become accustomed to peace.

Thanks to my training with the Gundam project I have always been good with spotting things out of the ordinary. Both in people's behavior and in the environment around me, making the job of finding dangers one I excelled in. By the first year I had trained a handful of guards to help ensure that Relena's safety was absolute. Seeing as how the woman had a knack for getting herself into all kinds of dangerous situations, I felt that the more that were trained to protect her, the easier keeping the fiery brunette safe would become.

Unfortunately, I had to leave that position. It is not that I did not enjoy my job, rather I felt it would be impossible to continue with the relationship as it progressed over the time I spent watching over Relena. By the year AC 198 I could feel that there was something more to the way that she looked upon me. With later consideration I have come to realize that this had probably always been the case, however, I had not noticed in full until she approached me one night.

The entire thing was rather sudden and I suppose sad would be the appropriate way of describing the situation. Relena came to me with her feelings for me and I was unable to do anything but to accept them and to thank her. As it stands I do not truly understand what it means to be "in love" with another as she declared she felt for me. When I made a social inquiry to Quatre and Trowa in later days they gave me an explanation of how they felt for one another, one that did not match with my feelings for the brown haired woman.

To be as thorough as I could be I spoke with my other two former comrades. Wufei I found easily, for he still worked with Sally in the Preventers. The Chinese male was as always, a riddle inside of an enigma, however, his words in regards to his colleague Sally left me wondering if he did not feel something similar to what Quatre and Trowa had described to me for the woman whom he worked so closely with.

Duo had been the hardest to find. Despite him having given Quatre and Trowa regular updates in regards to his well being and life, none of the other three knew exactly where he was. In the end I had to send him an email with my number in hopes that the American Pilot would reply with contact information, or perhaps call. During this time I had kept mostly to myself, I had begun positioning a young male by the name of Ryan to take over the role as head bodyguard and had him shadow me in my routes with Relena.

The last of my old allies and companions finally got back to me almost a week later. The day had been long and taxing, having to find several reasons for why I would not answer Relena's declaration with one of my own. The female at one point stating that I clearly felt the same for her…I had just begun to unwind in my apartment when I heard the tell-tale signs of a call coming in.

Accepting the call I was rather surprised when the screen accompanying it was black and all that came across was the usually cheerful voice of my old companion. Duo had apologized profusely for his delayed response to my emailed inquiry along with the lack of communication between us in the years after the war. His reason for the week's lapse was that he had been salvaging some wreckage in one of the decommissioned colonies and had been without access to his main server for the duration of the trip. Thinking on it, I do not believe I really thought much of the absence of the other save for the sudden loss of the one who had been what I had at one time called a "daily annoyance." His explanation seemed one that was plausible so I let the other's strange insistence slide.

What I had expected to be a rather unhelpful jumble of ramblings from the usually air headed ex-pilot was far more insightful than what I had even been given from Quatre. Duo had listened to the situation I had been experiencing with Relena in silence, something I had not known he was capable of, and then explained to me gently about what he felt love meant. When the other had finished I knew very clearly that I did not love Relena like that. Duo also explained to me that there were many forms of love and that I may love one person without being in love with them. When I asked the American pilot how to tell the differences between the two he had fallen silent.

As I remember it now the response that followed was strange. The other's voice was tight and soft and in the entire time I'd known Duo, I'd only ever heard that tone once before. It had been one late night where the five of us had found ourselves discussing what little of our pasts we trusted to tell each other at that time. There had come a small tale of how Duo had come to have his name…in that moment that same, pained and sad tone had been in his voice.

After that I had been unable to really understand much more of what Duo was saying. Though before I could say anything, he had gone silent and with a somewhat "Duo"-esque laugh he had proclaimed that he was tired. Apologizing for his overly serious lecture and with that the beginning of the end of our conversation had begun. The American rambling briefly about Hilde and the work he was doing before finally excusing himself, with a promise that we would talk again soon.

I do remember a faint twinge of regret as I accepted the other's words. I noticed both then and now that the line went deathly silent. For a moment I had almost thought that the other ex-pilot had hung up without saying anything more. I had been about to reach to disconnect the line myself when a soft, " goodbye Heero" had sounded softly over the line, followed quickly by the sound of dead air as the call was ended.

With the conversation with Duo over I had come to truly understand something very important. I did care deeply for Relena; I in fact did love her. However, I was not in love with her as she was me. Armed with this information I prepared the paperwork to transfer all responsibilities to Ryan in case the news was not received well and then made my way to where I knew Relena would be.

To this day the memory of the conversation with Relena has remained a painful one. I have undergone many forms of pain in my many years of war and training but the pain that I experienced from watching that woman fall to pieces before me was a shocking one. I did what I could to explain to her how I felt. How I cared for her and wished her happiness and safety but did not in fact love her as more than a close friend and someone that I thought of as important in my life.

Relena cried, screamed, even threw things at me. She pleaded at me to give "us" a shot. That even though I didn't love her "that way" I could come to love her and that she would make me love her. In the end the light brown haired woman cried herself into a stupor as I was helpless to do anything but hold her awkwardly. I left Relena in her bed, ensuring that she was wrapped up in her blankets and safe before I walked out of her apartment.

That day was spent ensuring that Ryan was ready to take over my position and that he knew Relena's schedule backwards and forward as I did. I was oddly pleased with the slightly older man's abilities as he seemed to easily slip into my role. Reassured that Relena would be safe without me I did the only thing I could do. I visited her once again to inform her of my decision to remove myself from her guard detail.

I still feel that I did what was best for the both of us. Even though it is well known that Relena and I cannot be alone in a room without the other leaving in a hurry there has been some progress. We have slowly begun to repair some of the awkwardness that was present between us in the times we saw one another after that.

What I did after that? To be honest it is all quite a blur for me. I spent a bit of time with Quatre and Trowa figuring out what I wanted to do, what I would fit into with my specialties and abilities. The two were gracious and gave me plenty of space. In fact, after a while they offered me the use of one of Quatre's condo's here in the city I have taken to living within. Something I will attribute to the fact that they could tell that I did not find the country a settling place.

I much prefer the bustle of a busy lifestyle; the sounds and smells of the city around me are far more calming to my senses then the silence that comes from a country night. Perhaps it comes from the fact I grew up in the colonies. Where even at night there is never total silence. While staying in the city in Quatre's condo I was able to experience many different specialties and jobs in my search for one that suited me.

I believe the closest fit other than the one I have settled into now and the bodyguard job I had first stumbled upon with Relena would probably be the work that I did in a local "garage". Really the place was no more than a small hole in the wall between a rundown bakery and a bank but it had a wide variety of different tasks and jobs brought in daily. I enjoyed working with my hands on the cars and the other things that needed fixing. The sensation rather nostalgic and often made me think of the many times I needed to perform maintenance on Wing Zero.

For almost six months I worked for the small garage, my boss a burly man by the name of Roger. He was hot headed and loud but he had a soft spot. Something I often witnessed when he would forget to charge elders when they came to claim their repaired items. I enjoyed my employment there until Roger finally came to me with the news that he would have to close up shop. He explained to me that his mother was sick and that he had every intention of returning to the town he'd grown up in to take care of her.

Roger insisted on paying me for the time I would have worked had he not come to this abrupt and sudden decision, along with a rather handsome bonus he said was for "hard work". Despite my insistence that I did not work for the money he forced me to accept the bonus he wished to give me - a fact that was rectified when his mother's bank suddenly discovered "a banking error" to the same amount Roger had given me - with a little extra to make sure that he and his mother were able to spend what time they could together without troubles.

After the shop closed I took a while to decide what it is I wanted to do. Really, I lucked into the position I have now with the Preventers. I was visiting with Quatre and Trowa again. The two having gladly taken me in to alleviate some of the boredom I was suffering from with nothing to occupy my time.

For a change Wufei had come to visit the two at the same time and for the first time in a long time since the war the four of us sat together at a table and simply experienced each other's company. It was strange to sit with the three others and have that fifth seat be empty. I remember realizing this as I sat eating my dinner while Quatre and Wufei were discussing the work the Preventers were doing.

I was in the middle of wondering what Duo was doing when I suddenly caught my name in their conversation. My attention snapping to the two in question as I found all three of them watching me. Clearly the blonde had realized I had not caught what they had said as he was quickly restating what he had been discussing with the Chinese pilot.

From the sounds of things there had been several attempts of an uprising in a small colony near the outskirts of the colonies'. In the work to stop the troubles and keep the public from finding out several of their men had regrettably been killed in the line of work and there were several positions available. The idea intrigued me as I listened. I had heard much of what the Preventers did and the fact that many of my skills would be beneficial to their work seemed to have Wufei agreeing that I should speak with Sally and the others.

Which is precisely why I am writing these logs; after taking Wufei's offer and contacting Sally I was quickly allowed to take the initial training all within their ranks took. I have been informed that these are merely formalities and that I have already been confirmed a position but I have to undergo the appropriate testing to ensure I am a fit for the job.

Part of these have included a rather tiring task of speaking to one that they classify as a "counselor" in order to determine my mental health and if I have the potential to be more of a liability or hindrance than help. Wufei has been rather silent as to his experience with this pushy and, at times invasive, female that insists on digging into every aspect of my life both prior to becoming a Gundam pilot and throughout the war. However, he has said that by going through with these sessions he came to understand a side of himself he could not previously…and he has encouraged me to listen to what she has to say.

So for this purpose I have allowed her to question me and have relived much of my time in the war. Something's I have found painful and hard to remember. The meddlesome woman has requested that I write a post war account for how I have come to decide that this will be a beneficial job and to keep track through this journal going forward any hardships or things in particular that I feel I have need to discuss but wish not to.

Mission accepted.

Heero Yuy

 

* * *

 

 

**March 5th After Colony 201**

Having spent a large time explaining how I came to be in the situation of keeping logs of my mental insights and observations, I will not waste time re-examining that which I have already stated previously. I will, however, explain the main reason for this entry.

The days since my earlier entry have been as I expected. Common training and evaluations that I have found no issues in successfully completing -Wufei and Sally have both expressed a delight at how easily I have been progressing and there have been mentions of fast tracking the basics if the counselor will give me the mental go ahead.

It is because of this that I was sent to have a double session with the woman today. It is always difficult to spend more than the regular amount of time with her. She is what I call annoying, whereas others may classify her as "insightful" or "perceptive". She seems to pick up on things that I myself have not. Or perhaps, more accurately, she registers the emotional meanings behind these things that I myself have a hard time understanding.

Through my sessions today we began to pick apart my relationships with the other pilots during the war. She explained to me that this was in order to help me emotionally accept my feelings for them and to understand and utilize these in relationships with others.

The easiest to understand was Quatre Raberba Winner. I have always felt that he was too gentle for what we needed to do, a fact that she classified as an instinct of wishing to shelter the kinder male. I cannot deny that there were instances through the war that I wanted to make sure that the Arabian pilot was not in the line of fire and that I would rather take on a dangerous task to spare him.

Next and also easy to understand was my relationship with Trowa; this one even I had come to understand myself. I had often looked to the taller male to explain things that I was not able to comprehend. Although Trowa is very much like me in that he is able to shut off his emotions when needed, he has a far more developed understanding of them and the connections between humans. In the days of the war I had often relied upon him to help me sort out what I was feeling in a way that I could analyse logically.

Even Wufei Chang was one I could figure out mostly on my own since the years of the war…The black haired man was the one I knew the least about, however, I always respected his drive and devotion to his cause. Throughout the war I always trusted the Chinese pilot to have my back and that trust had carried on throughout our relationship since.

This all led to the one person that I could never understand. The counselor listened to my retelling of the many irritating things I suffered at the hands of a certain fellow pilot and the way he annoyed me to no end. The belief that Duo was not needed in the war and that he would be better off as a clown somewhere was a memory that surprised me. Despite the other's foolhardiness I know that he was an integral part of our team.

The last hour of our time had been spent taking apart the relationship between Duo and I and I have come to understand that it was far more complex than I ever thought possible. The counselor has expressed a fascination with the American pilot. Apparently he seems to have exhibited attributes of an emotionally solid confidante for me without my knowing it - the ways in which he acted having worked to alleviate my agitation and stress without my conscious acknowledgement that this was in fact the case.

Even more there is something that has further bothered me. In the time that we were delving into the past of mine and Duo's relationship, there is a period in time near the beginning that I do not yet remember. A time in my mind and life that is just simply gone. I can attribute this to the time in which I self-destructed. There was a good period of time in which my body had needed it's time to heal and so I had been bed ridden and unconscious, cared for by Trowa in the time before the five of us had come to be as closely knit as we became later in the war. Prior to this time I can remember finding Duo to be an annoyance, the American having been nothing but a thorn in my side, and after the gap in my memory the pilot was similarly just a pain…but the counselor brought something to my attention that I did not notice myself

The difference in how I felt for the American pilot was non-existent but the obvious and noticeable difference in how the braided teen behaved towards me and his understanding of my moods and how to handle me was definitely there. The thought had never once occurred to me and now it is nagging at me like a knot gnawing at the edges of my mind. There is something in that period of time that I am forgetting. Something in regards to Duo Maxwell and myself that I cannot understand.

I will be returning to the counselor tomorrow to work further on this matter.

Heero Yuy.

* * *

 

 

The room was completely silent as Heero leaned back his eyes slipping closed. Letting his head fall backwards, Heero felt the tension slipping from him as he forced his whole body to relax. From the muscles in his face all the way to the tips of his toes, everything clenching voluntarily and then relaxing to leave the dark haired male slumped completely into his seat.

This had been a useful tool that blasted woman had taught him in these sessions he had been attending. It was one element of them that Heero felt was truly useful. Of course being the well trained pilot that he was Heero could control each muscle in his body at will, clenching and relaxing as needed to attack or defend against damage…but it had honestly never occurred to him to use it as a relaxation tool.

The faintest sound of a sigh echoed in the otherwise silent room brought Heero's mind back to the forefront of his attention. Being the only person to inhabit this small apartment, the sound could have come from no one but himself. Blinking his eyes open Heero shrugged his shoulders forward and then backwards once each to further alleviate stress and then glanced to the laptop that he had not looked at until the past week or so.

To be honest, the ex-pilot had almost forgotten that he had kept this laptop. After the war he had never really had much use for the hacking skills he had mastered. There had been a few exceptions when he had used his war time expertise but he was not too concerned with high tech protection and hacking anymore. So his hardwired, firewalled, tanker software had never needed to come into play.

However, the idea of sitting at his office computer to write these simple and self-explanatory logs had been less than appealing to him so Heero had pulled his old friend from his few memorabilia's from the war and booted it up. So far he had found that he definitely had missed this laptop. The processing speeds were faster than most of the computers he had worked with since and he had the convenience of sitting in his bed and writing a report if he so wished. Not that he, Heero Yuy, actually would be so lazy as to do such a thing.

No, that was something Duo would do.

The sudden and unprovoked thought of Duo Maxwell brought another sigh from Heero as he ran one callused hand through his hair. Truly his mind had been hard to keep focused the last twelve hours. Perhaps it was all this talk with the counselor into a period in his life that he could not remember. He had called Trowa later to ask him the details of that time and had only gotten the information he had known from when he had woken up.

These thoughts of his were drawn to a close as a flash of something caught Heero's attentions. His eyes skipped automatically to the computer screen as something was flashing before him. A link had formed under the words "something in regards to Duo Maxwell and myself that I cannot understand" and it appeared to be attempting to open a hidden, buried sub folder somewhere in the recesses of his computer.

For a long while Heero sat staring at the computer, the words now underlined and highlighted in green and the subsequent screen that was popping up asking for his permission to open the link. Heero reached slowly to scroll his mouse over cancel, hovering it there for a second before giving into that part of him that had become curious at this. Clicking the "yes" Heero waited for almost five minutes until a folder opened upon his screen.

Heero sat staring in surprise at what was staring back at him which was a series of files and folders. All with similar titles, "Duo" "02" "Maxwell" and the like. The entire folder was in fact titled "Duo Maxwell". Scrolling his mouse over the thirty or so files, he was startled and frankly rather disturbed to see the dates attached to these files. Each and every single one corresponded to a day in his life he could not remember….

Finally, with a moment of hesitation, Heero selected the first file and titled "Maxwell" and opened it….


	2. Chapter 2

**June 14th-195 AC**

The nights have been longer than I am used to here on the Earth. The sounds that surround our safe house are also too quiet, it makes me feel on edge. Perhaps it is because I am used to the faint sounds that are always audible in the colonies but this nothingness does my nerves no good and has left me unable to sleep except for the moments in which 04 has deemed it necessary to prescribe some sedatives. Not that they work much more than a relaxant.

The fact that I woke up here in this safe house bed earlier today was a small irritation. I can remember the blast of the explosion and the pain as I hit the ground. After that I can remember only the feeling of slipping away and the image of a hallway that stretched forever before my feet. The thought of being brought back to this place has left an uncertain knot in my stomach that I have as of yet been unable to diagnose.

I awoke to find 04 sitting in a chair by my bed. The blonde pilot did not make any sound that suggested that he noticed that I had woken up. The Arabian teen's attention entirely engrossed on the book he was reading, the only sound in the room other than 02's constant, faint snoring, being that of the blonde flipping the pages now and then.

It at the very least gave me the time to run a self-diagnostic to see how much damage I had sustained in the self-destruction. Fractures in my right elbow, upper arm and shoulder. My left knee and ankles felt as if they had been dislocated and then set back in place. My head felt fuzzy and I could distinctly feel at least a dozen stitches along my left temple and the side of my head. Internally several of my ribs were broken in several places and there had to be at least a few internal wounds that would take mending. Diagnostic conclusion; with the time it would take me to heal it would have been better if termination had occurred in the blast.

"Heero? Are you awake?" As 04's voice broke into my self assessment I could not help the grunt if irritation and the half glare that I sent the blonde as he leaned forward in his seat to confirm that I was in fact conscious.

I lay listening in silence as the Arabian pilot explained to me how I had been out of it for almost two days at this point and the extent of my wounding. I was pretty accurate in my own assessment however I was also surprised to find that I had experienced a minor collapsing of my right lung when some of my ribs had punctured it upon the impact of my landing. As 04 concluded his message to me he seemed to pause, almost as if waiting for my response. When I did not however choose to respond to him in anything more than a grunt of acknowledgement the blonde sighed and rose to his feet.

I expected the other to leave immediately, however he paused near the bed my sometimes roommate lay in. I had at first assumed the braided pilot was simply being lazy in bed and sleeping at such an early hour…however as I watched 04 he began to check the bandages that were covering up the sleeping pilot's side and shoulder, some fresh blood wetting them and causing the blonde to have to change them.

As 04 worked he commented on how 02, or Duo as he called him, had gone into the battle field despite direct orders to retreat to get him. I watched the other pilot as he tended to the braided teen's side and shoulder. From what little I could see it appeared that 02 had sustained at least two gunshot wounds. The fact that the braided pilot had been stupid enough to disobey an order and place himself in bodily danger in order to retrieve my body was foolish.

There was no reason for why he should have stepped into that dangerous situation for the sake of such a thing. This only left me believing as I always had that the American was a baka through and through. Shaking my head I chose then to lie down and allow my body the unwanted, but necessary rest to begin its recovery.

The day since then has been slow and I have had to endure the visitations of not only 04 and the banged mute 03, but even 05 had stopped in to check on me and 02. The duration of their stay's varied and often when they found no need to stay watching over me they would stop and attend to 02's wounds, which by the end of the evening upon 04's last visit had all but stopped bleeding and were apparently beginning to clot and heal.

As it is I have managed to pull myself from bed to my desk. It is as I feared my left knee and ankle barely held under my body weight. It was an act of determination that I was able to walk the few steps to my seat. Even so I managed it. The matter of writing however has proven to be more difficult. Sitting in this position for a prolonged amount of time is causing the pain from my ribs and healing lung to increase with ever inhale I take and I will be unable to stay in this seat for long.

01 Signing off

* * *

 

 

**June 15th –AC 195**

As I had previously decided the time it is taking me to heal has left me useless and unable to continue on my missions. I would be more use if I had completed the passing after my self-destruction. However as it is I am left here having to limit the amount of time I am able to move about. Between my mending knee and ankle and the damage done to my ribs and left lung I am left winded.

The concussion I am told by 03 that I suffered has done very little to hinder me, other than the splitting headaches I get from staring into my computer monitor. It was for this very reason that I stopped working on my log last night. A wave of nausea having hit me as I had been writing and I had to remove myself from my desk chair to lie down. I have no recollection of making it to the bed however.

I did wake in the bed this morning and was greeted by the silent and pensive expression that seems to be the constant upon 03's face. The tallest of the five of us was quiet for so long I had begun to wonder if he was at all able to speak. He did however at long last lean forward to relay to me that I had been found by 05 late last night in his turn to check on myself and 02. Apparently I had been passed out a few steps away from the bed. I do not remember passing out but perhaps the wounding to my head has had more of an effect on me than I believe.

Either way I was informed that until further notice it is recommended that I write my reports in my bed and if that is unacceptable then one of the others will write it for me as I dictate to them my observations. I have opted for the first plan of action.

During my day I have gone done all that my current condition will allow. I have looked over the schematics of the current targets that the others are planning on hitting and given them my advice as to how I would approach the situation. Despite the act itself of telling other's my secrets is in itself entirely foreign to me I am currently unable to risk another black out.

It was while I was explaining a plan for 03 and 05's upcoming mission that the braided pilot that had been constantly snoring up until that point came to. 02 groaning about the pain in his shoulder and gratefully being left to the care of 04. The blonde jumping right in to mother the slightly taller pilot.

Despite his wounds 02 seems able to have maintained complete mobility. Due to this while I continued my outline the two slowly made their way out of the room to get the braided teen some food. I could feel the American's eyes on me even as he was being led out of the room and for a while I could not help but ponder the strange pilot's fascination with me. I have yet to figure out a plausible answer to this inquiry.

Early this evening I received my mission statement from Doctor J. The man has expressed his exasperation at my actions and stated outright that if I was to destroy such a fine piece of machinery as my gundam had been then I had best end myself along with it. In the absence of having a physical gundam to replace it and the inability to perform missions as of yet I have been instructed to observe the other pilots and to report to him on their behaviors and training.

Mission accepted

01

* * *

 

 

**June 22nd –AC 195**

In the week that has passed since I began my observation I have found the others to be odd in relation to what I have come to understand as a soldier. Perhaps the only one who I have come to associate with the terminology has to be 03.

The male presents himself in a very straightforward manner. His way of reacting and analyzing everything is very similar to my own and he is very quiet, only speaking when he had needs to do so. Something I can appreciate since I have been forced to share my sleeping quarters with 02. 03, Or Trowa Barton as is his adopted name has proven to be a stoic pilot that I know will be reliable in future endeavors. I will continue to monitor him to ensure that this assessment is correct and amend anything in the future as needed.

The next that I can understand, at least to some degree has proven to be 05. The male is far louder that I prefer and I have witnessed a few instances in which he engaged in a loud and violent sounding chase of the braided pilot that was my bedmate. Wufei Chang is a hot blooded individual who is apparently as short tempered and quick to anger as Trowa is unlikely to react thusly. His rants about justice and honor have been a daily instance, something I have assimilated and become adapted to.

The two of the pilots I have been to this point unable to understand are 04 and 02. The blonde pilot is by far the gentler of the two. Quatra Winner has a soft demeanor and a gentleness about him that is more suited a civilian than a combatant of war. As of yet I have yet to witness anything other than that softness to the blonde would reassure his ability to perform in battle the way that is expected of us Gundam Pilots. If the need arises I will take his Sandrock into battle in his stead, however at this point in time this is only a fall back plan, should he prove to be untrustworthy.

Last, and hardest to analyze has been the braided Baka who invades my space and is constantly forcing his irrational and irritating chattering upon me during my attempts to reflect and concentrate while I heal. 02 aka Duo Maxwell has apparently begun healing from his wounds received in battle recovering what he believed to be my fallen body. This proven by the increased amounts of times that he has raced into the room to brace the door against the raging rants of 05 from the other side.

Through the prolonged exposure to the American I have found very little in his personality that suggests that he is at all suitable to be a gundam pilot. He has proven on several accounts to be a foolish and childish individual. The constant goofing around him has been nothing but a continual irritation and I have grown tired of watching him joke and tease the other pilots.

I can see nothing good coming from the fact that all of the pilots save for myself and Duo who are both healing still will be partaking in separate missions. Duo and I will be trapped in this god forsaken safe house alone, leaving me with no separation from the annoying pilot's rambling stupidity.

I will do my best to resist the urge to end the fool's life.

01


	3. Chapter 3

Heero shifted from where he had been sitting at the desk for almost a solid hour now his eyes scanning over the contents of the three logs he had already read through at this point several times. The words and observations he had committed to the laptop keys. The clear contradictions to what he had always thought were clear as day in his writing.

He had been led to believe that he had awoken from a mini coma after self-destructing. During which time he had mended and healed from his intensive injuries. Yet here he was staring at the proof that he had been conscious after the explosion.

Frowning Heero leaned back in his seat as he glanced to the time only to quirk a brow as he realized that without his notice it had become so late. The neon lights telling him that it was almost one in the morning. This left Heero hesitating. The part of him that had been trained to work as a soldier no matter how little sleep, food or any other necessary fundamental he had was warring with the part that through the years of peace had become accustomed to maintaining his health conservatively.

In the end the curiosity for what he had discovered won out. Standing from the desk Heero crossed his study and made his way into the rest of his apartment. Making short work of his trip to the kitchen he leaned his back against the edge of the counter as he waited for the coffee he had just put on to finish brewing.

It took him a long time to realize he had been staring at a coffee cup he had had since the first Christmas after the war. It was a standard size, and black in colour. It had a simple message of "This day will never be repeated" engraved in its surface in silver. To be honest Heero had been intrigued why Quatra of all people would give him such a gift. The small bat wings painted on the bottom had always been as mysterious as the present itself. Heero leaned forward to examine the cup more closely, he discover what it was about this cup that had been bothering him in that moment.

Through the closer examination a small crack along the back near the handle became visible. Picking the cup up Heero turned and tilted it to look at it from every angle. The crack appeared to be near the top and bottom of the handle. Almost as if the handle of the cup had broken off and then been carefully glued back on. The craftsmanship was commendable. Heero could hardly see the signs left over from the damage, meaning the person who had taken the time to fix this had done a good job and been thorough.

What bothered him was the fact he did not remember this cup becoming broken in the five years he'd owned it. Also Heero could not imagine Quatra would have given him a present that had been previously broken, despite the other's gentleness Quatra was as sharp a pilot as any of them. The blonde would have noticed the damages done to this cup just as he had…

Pulling his thoughts from this oddity Heero shook his head and set the cup down again. Making a mental note to avoid picking the cup up from the handle. Sure he had managed it without incident in the last few years but the last thing he wanted was to break the cup once again. With this stored away Heero turned instead to grab the coffee, now finished and poured himself a cup.

Turning from the kitchen Heero stopped as he let his eyes wander over the living space that he had taken to calling home in the time he had been staying in this city. It was a small apartment, a far cry from the small houses he would have stayed in in the war that were nothing but a hole in the wall with a toilet and a bed. However this was by no means the expensive penthouse condo that Quatra had let him stay in.

Not that he did not have just as much money as the blonde pilot…it was simply that he did not feel that he had to live in such an extravagant place. As it was this was a two and a half bedroom with two bathrooms. The half bedroom he had taken the wall out and turned it into a study attaching to his bedroom. The second room he used as a training room. The living room had the essentials, nicely planned out furniture, again thanks to Quatra who had put him in touch with a nice man named Michale. Heero had even given into the luxury of having let a colleague of his in one of his work places pick out his electronics.

The black haired male was as close to someone the others may classify as a "friend" that Heero had ever known since the war. To be honest he sort of reminded him of the braided Baka. He was an excitable young man by the name of Nicholas. The moment that Heero had introduced himself to Nick on his first day working with him the guy; whose hair at the time had been green, and yet in the time he'd known him had been blue, black, green and pink, had insisted that they were friends and had invited himself over.

Nick had remained a part of his life even in the termination of his employment with that company. He often called or emailed him. The spunky male was somewhere in the colonies having a rather as he put it "wild" honeymoon with his boyfriend of five years. Or at least that was what the email Nick had sent Heero last month suggested.

Shaking his head against the similarities he had already by now accumulated in his head in regards to that strange civilian and Duo Maxwell, Heero walked through the dark living room to return to his study. This task accomplished Heero placed his cup of coffee down on the desk and settled himself into the seat already clicking the next log file.

* * *

 

 

**June 23RD- AC 195**

02….omae o korosu….I swear I have never felt my control over my desire to end someone slipping as much as I have in the last day. I was awoken early to the somewhat concerned face of Quatra hovering near my bed just far enough that he was safely out of my striking ranger. The blonde was hovering for the simple fact that he had been preparing to leave for a mission and had been pondering how to implore that I not kill 02.

"Heero I'm assigning this mission to you. No matter what you . " The blonde haired pilot had stressed for several times until finally feeling satisfied when I acknowledged his demand with a faint and somewhat forced "mission accepted."

The Arabian pilot knew that when I said the words I would do all I could to ensure that whatever the mission was it was successful. For all that I am worth I have been trying to ensure that this remains the case. However as it is I cannot envision myself trapped in this baka's thrall for much more before the precaution of removing the gun from my person will stop being enough to ensure I do not kill him out of sheer annoyance.

Since 02 woke to discover that the others had all left for their missions the braided fool has been a constant in my presence. When the baka is not blathering in my ear I have to tolerate the loud music that seems to be permeating the entire safe house and bear witness to the act of shaking one's whole body about wildly to the music. I have been told by 03 that this is labeled as "dancing". Whatever it is called 02 apparently likes to do it in abundance.

My level of control has begun to slowly waver as his unbelievable acts of stupidity are mounting up. Considering that in the span of an afternoon 02 has shrunk one of my pairs of shorts, a feat I was not entirely sure was even possible before he showed me the damage done, Set off the fire alarm almost four times trying to cook what he apparently believes to be passable as food, and broken a plate tripping over the sleeve of his jacket I have been telling him for almost three days to pick up off the floor in the first place. I am not sure the others would fault me if this mission is not successful.

To think that I will be alone in this place with this baka for another ten days in total is almost enough to make me wish I had managed to succeed ending my existence in that blast, while at the same time wondering if I had not done so. Perhaps this was the universe's idea of penance for the lives I have taken. To spend eternity tormented by the blithering fool…Sounds like a comparable analogy to me…

I hear him yelling from the living room…I will have to venture out and see just what the idiot has done now…

I swear I will kill him…

01

* * *

 

 

Heero quirked a brow faintly as he finished this file…the faintest quirks of his lips that Trowa had long ago explained was a smile registered in his mind as he could almost picture being driven to such an extent at the hands of the American. The image was an amusing one and a testimate to how much he had grown during the war and his interactions with the other pilots. As it was now he could still remember how irritating he could find Duo however despite his opinion of the Baka he could not imagine himself actually killing the other.

* * *

 

 

**June 27th –AC 195**

I have managed for the first time since the explosion, to make a complete and unaided trip down to the living room. I have been here for almost two hours now and despite a slight difficulty of breathing I have found no unmanageable ill effects have presented themselves to me in this time. Despite the braided Baka's annoying hovering.

When 02 found me here I had to threaten his life to have him at last leave me be. The American trying to insist that I returned to the bedroom and my bed. As it is he is still hovering far closer than is necessary. As far as I can tell that candle holder he is dusting has been devoid of any particles of dead skin or dust that could possibly accumulated in the five minutes since the last time he worked on that mantle.

Sending the other pilot a glare I am left thinking back over the last four days. I have been at my wits end at times trying desperately to keep from killing the damn fool. His mobility in his arm seems to have returned entirely and he has taken it upon himself to tend to the house hold in Quatra's absence.

At the mention of the blonde pilot, I received word from him that his latest mission was a success. Upon the initial reading I believe a part of me was relieved. I figure that I assumed that with the completion of a successful mission it meant that the blonde would be returning…02 Seems to be far less …bothersome to me when he has someone else to keep his attentions at times.

However despite my desires I have been informed that at the very earliest Quatra will not be returning until next week…similar reports from the other pilots have left me exasperated and irritable. A fact I have no problem admitting I have taken out on the source of my irritation and stress. The first time I yelled at the fool he had stopped what he was doing and looked almost shocked at my reaction.

The feeling of endorphin's and adrenaline that had surged through my body at finally being able to yell at the American and expel some of the frustrations I have been feeling as I was trapped in my bed was startling. The good feeling was quickly pushed away for analysis later and I sent the idiot my best glare. I watched as the look of shock turned into something else. I am not entirely sure what it meant…however I feel I have seen that look before; I will discuss my findings with 03 upon his return.

As it is now though when I am pushed to that point in which I am unable to hold in the anger or irritation any longer the braided baka no longer seems startled or upset. He simply sends me that infuriating smile and continues on his way. At least he is smart enough to leave me alone to my own devices after I have shouted at him…

This however does leave me with the uncertainty about why I at times enjoy yelling at the baka. Let alone the other's reactions. I have read nothing about people enjoying being yelled at. In fact I have read case studies in which the act of being shouted at can cause pain to individuals…I will have to take this into consideration…

01

* * *

 

 

**June 28th-AC 195**

Today I have had a most startling and unwelcome moment in regards to 02. It began early on in the day. I had noticed a change in the braided pilot's behavior. He was jumpy, almost nervous in nature. The fact made all the worse when I found that I was able to last almost all day sitting up here in the living room couch without any negative effects.

The braided fool seemed to be talking to himself in gentle whispers. So quiet that even I was unable to hear it when I strained to hear what he was saying. I could see him turning several times to one of the cupboards on the other side of the island that was where the oven was stationed.

All in all his behavior was peculiar. I made note of this before returning to working on my paper work and examinations of several of the bases' near where our safe house was stationed. I had already devised that when I was fully healed I would take them out as I left the area. It had almost been four hours when I realized something. Or rather a lack of something.

There was no annoying chattering buzzing in the back of my consciousness. Nor was there any music blaring through the speakers of the living room's sound system. Nor was there the cursing and smoke from kitchen as was to be expected around a meal time. Looking around I was unable to so much as spot the braided fool.

It was more a curiosity that made me go looking. I had been wanting desperately for the other to leave me in peace. To have silence and time to concentration. I had demanded it of the other, threatened him with death if he did not comply. And yet he had not left me be. Now suddenly there was no sign of the other. Something did not seem right with this. Grabbing the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon, a letter opener that Quatra had left haphazardly upon the table he oven used to write up his reports; I began my way through the safe house as silently as I could.

Stopping regularly it did not take me long to pinpoint where the only source of sound was coming from. It led me through the safe house towards the back door. From here I could see the door was somewhat ajar leaving my senses on edge as I stopped often to ensure that no other sounds other than this overly silent house were present. In this manor I managed to make my way across the hall to the door.

Pausing to take an assessment of the situation I heard the first signs of life on the other side of the door. I could hear faint breathing and the odd sound of panting coupled with that steady rhythm. Shifting my position I was able to see through the crack in the door enough to spot 02 seated with his back against the tree not too far from the back stairs, facing slightly away from me.

So it had been 02 that had left the door open, and the silence from the other had occurred because he had taken a moment here. The information I was assimilating was satisfactory enough to ease my discomfort. However there was something more that left me unable to return an uncharacteristic look upon the other's face. From what little I could see of 02 from here I could see that his face was filled with dark emotions I have absolutely no experience with and so am unable to analyze at this point in time…he appeared to be distressed….

Stepping forward I managed to catch a far clearer look upon his face before it was blocked from view by a flurry of motion. At first my instinct was to rush out. Despite the other's annoyance and my tendency to wish death upon the braided baka he was still my ally currently and it was unheard of to think of allowing one's comrade to be attacked.

I had not stepped more than a hairsbreadth forward when I registered a soft, peeling expulsion of sound I have observed before. It is called a "laugh" and it was leaving the other in an unending stream as his hands came up to run over the head of what appeared to be a small animal. The sounds from outside now consisted of the other's laughter and the sounds of slurping. I could only understand the situation as this.

The braided idiot had gone outside for a moment, and was currently having his face licked by what appeared to be a puppy. The dog no larger than 02's arm as he laughed and patted it in response to the affection showed to him.

As I stood there watching I will not deny that I felt something stirring. A memory I would much rather remain buried forever made itself known to me and I was left feeling tightness within my chest. I do not believe my lung is bothering me so I am not entirely certain what was the cause of such a sensation. However I opted to ignore it at the time and instead turned to make my way back to the living room.

As it is Maxwell has returned to the house and has presumed his childish and by all means irritating behaviors…I did however spot him sneaking out to the back with some water and leftover meat…Strange, perhaps I will observe Maxwell and this dog for a while and see if the creature has a calming effect upon him as I have heard can be the case with some people…

01


	4. Chapter 4

Heero ran his fingers over his face a moment, sweeping the tips of his bangs out of his eyes. The act was a habit he had picked up somewhere when he was tired. Pausing momentarily at that thought he could not help the faintest surprise as he realized that it was in fact Duo he had picked the little quirk up from. The braided pilot had done it a lot when he was stressed or tired…

Sighing, Heero shook his head to clear them of the thoughts that were attempting to run away with him as he rose up from his seat. The office was simple. A section of desks pushed together in pairs that lined the left side and a walk way that made a path from the kitchen to the other Preventer offices. Each trainee was responsible for making his temporary desk as personable as they wished and Heero was pleased that for the most part the others that were currently going through training with him were likewise neat.

None of the desks were quite as bare as the desk Heero claimed as his own but a part of him had worried that they would have an unnecessarily cluttered amount of things upon their desks. The most, however, were a few pictures and Tory three desks over had a stuffed animal her husband brought in that morning for their anniversary. Glancing at his own desk Heero let his eyes roam over the paperwork, file folders and keyboard. Turning his head to look towards the one thing on his desk that showed anything other than his work issued items was a simple black frame that Trowa and Quatre had given him for his desk.

The frame was plain and unimportant as was more to Heero's tastes. However, the picture it held was not without meaning or importance. The five faces that stared out at him from behind the glass were like looking into a reflection of himself frozen in time. The picture was from right after the Mariemaia incident when Quatre had asked them over to his home.

The five of them were seated around a small table in Quatre's backyard facing the camera. Examining each of them closely Heero could see the subtle similarities in the others from then and the differences. Wufei's eyes were harder then, a tightness about his mouth as he was being crammed between himself and Duo. The Chinese pilot's arms were folded over his chest in the defensive posture he had often adopted during the war.

Quatre had been smiling towards the camera. His eyes were still haunted by the lives he had been forced to take during the war, however, from the subtle way that the smaller male was leaning into Trowa it was not hard to see that they had been close even then. A memory or two from during the war coming to mind as he could not help but analyze the moments he had seen the two together for signs. The tallest of their group had the same mask upon his face as had been his wall throughout the war. Trowa did not rely so heavily upon it these days. In fact the silent male had been known to smile when in the presence of his beloved.

The image of himself was the one that surprised him more than the three. He was pulled slightly back from the others, putting a physical distance between them and his own body. He also had his back mostly to the camera and was looking at it from a profiled position. The look upon his face was one that he had not seen staring out at him from a mirror for some time. To be honest in those days he had been uncertain, he had not known how to assimilate into society.

The last to receive his scrutiny was the teen that had been on his mind most in the last twenty four hours. The braided pilot was leaning towards the camera with his arm thrown over the back of Wufei's chair. His long chestnut braid hung haphazardly over the arm of the chair dangerously close to the Chinese teen. Heero shook his head with a faint sigh as he could see the usual Cheshire grin upon the baka's face as he seemed to be in his usual cheerful mood that day. As he was glancing away though something drew Heero's gaze back around and he stared at the image of the other for a long while. It was not for a while before he could figure out what it was that bothered him about this photo.

Picking it up he pulled the unyielding picture closer and noticed something he had never taken the time to truly see previously. It was the look in Duo's eyes. The others expressions were straightforward and obvious, be it happy and content, or uncertain. He and the others had all been clearly expressing their emotions. However, the most cheerful of the five of them, despite smiling in his usual manner, did not have the look of someone who was happy in his eyes. Heero could see the same distant, haunted expression in those blue eyes as he had in his own.

This drew a faint furrow to Heero's brow as he felt the impulse to frown at this new discovery. The other pilot looked happy save for if one was to look at his eyes more closely, a feat that Heero had never really taken the time to do after the war. Heero had been working to straighten himself out and find his place. He had not had the emotional capacity or understanding to notice such a thing let alone to comprehend the implications behind it.

Setting the picture back in its place Heero leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers over his face once more. Giving into the temptation, he rose from his seat and paced across the office to slip into the kitchen in search of a coffee to fight the tiredness pressing upon him. Heero enjoyed the movement since most of his day had been spent behind his desk filling out paperwork and taking a few psychological tests that were required for his next session.

Heero was satisfied with the quality of the coffee here despite the unregulated amount of ground coffee that the others insisted on using. It was dark and strong and did much to make him feel more alert. Pouring himself a cup Heero drank it there not eager to return to his desk for a change.

Heero could not help but realize that he was experiencing a very uncharacteristic moment in which he had no motivation to work. The tests were straight forward and repetitive, and frankly something he could complete from the comfort of his own home. Despite this was not really the reason for why he was not eager to return to his desk.

The feelings he had registered in himself that morning had been ones that had suggested that he was dissatisfied with the implications that he had come to understand through reading his log files. There was a very clear problem that had reared its head and was making Heero rather tense. Wufei was one of the ones who had allowed him to believe he had spent a total of three months in a coma. The impulse to drag the reasoning from the black haired man had damn near broken through Heero's control upon seeing him early on in the day.

As it was now, Heero had purposely side stepped the other and had since been avoiding the other for the sheer fact that he had discovered a boiling anger festering in his stomach. In all honesty he had been rather surprised and, of course, had clamped down on the emotion immediately to analyze the reasoning behind it. However, he had until now been unable to understand why he was feeling this way.

Heero pulled himself from these thoughts by shaking his whole body and turned to wash his now empty cup. He hesitated just a moment before finally logging off his computer after loading the test upon a hard drive to complete at home. Glancing to the clock he knew he could not be faulted for leaving as it was after his agreed upon hours and the assignment was possible to do with his own computer. This decision made he made his way out of the office.

The traffic on the way home was light for this time of the night and Heero had very little difficulty making it at a good pace. This left Heero in a far better mood than he had been when he had left the Preventer's headquarters. Parking and locking up, Heero stopped off only long enough to grab his mail on his way up to his apartment.

The security system clicked as he imputed his code, swinging his door open as he stepped inside. The timer on the coffee pot was working, filling the empty apartment with the pleasant scent of Dark Roasted. Heero enjoyed coming home to that smell. Throwing the mail onto the counter he took a few moments to get changed from the uniform that was his work apparel.

It was a mere few minutes until Heero was setting his laptop down upon the counter and pulling the black cup with the silver message from the cupboard. He did not bother with milk as he sat down upon the stool before his laptop and booted it up.

The next hour was dedicated entirely to completing his psychological assignment, with a few momentary breaks to answer a few emails from Wufei. The other expressed a surprise that they had not at the very least crossed paths during the day and Heero could also sense an underlining tone of concern for his wellbeing in regards to how his sessions were going. Heero responded as quickly and as descriptively as he could before returning to the task at hand.

By the completion of the assignment Heero had finished his cup of coffee. Sitting back on the stool for a moment he glanced to the envelopes upon the counter top. Reaching for them he began to sort through them for the ones that were of importance and the ones that could be recycled. In the end there were two bills, five pieces of advertisement and a simple cream envelope. Looking at it more closely Heero could easily recognize Quatre's handwriting.

Opening the letter Heero was surprised to see the card that was within. Written in golden ink he could see the official invitation to Quatre Rabarba Winner and Trowa Barton's wedding. The further details being that the event itself was being held in the early weeks of the following month.

Heero could not understand the knot that formed in his stomach at the thought of the two. He was unsure as to his feelings for the three ex-pilots who he had been until recently close to. In the last day or so he had even reached out to Duo through email. The braided pilot had not responded yet so Heero could only assume he was off on a scavenger job again.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the odd sensation and uncertainty he turned to place the invitation down on the counter top near his coffee maker. Returning to his laptop with another cup of coffee he opened the folder he had saved to his desktop and pulled up the next log file. This one being titled "Maxwell".

* * *

 

 

**June 30th - AC 195**

In the two days that have passed I have felt far stronger and was even able to begin a slight working regime to strengthen my knee and ankle. The ache in my lung is all but gone at this time and the only hindrance I still suffer from has proven to be my arm and the damage done to my head in the explosion. Where I can physically manage the strain, I have experienced a momentarily lapse of consciousness twice during a session.

The first instance left me at the mercy of the braided baka. Apparently 02 had discovered me when he was coming to check in on Deathscythe. He spent a good time informing me of the dangers of pushing it too far when someone was healing from head trauma.

"You could be doing some more damage" was his favorite statement and he cycled back to it over and over again for almost an hour.

In the end, I had to result to glaring at the baka until he lapsed into silence. The look upon his face as he went quiet was satisfying, he clearly did not dare say anything and yet the look in his eyes was one of fire. He wanted to say more, wanted to continue his rant but was not willing to do so.

Unfortunately, the idiot would not let me out of his sight until I at last returned to the house to rest. The sensation of him watching me followed me for the duration of that day. I have been keeping to myself to work on my reports and am pleased to hear from Wufei that he will be returning in a day or so. Furthermore, with the progression of my recovery I have been cleared to return to the field in a few days after.

The schematics of my next mission have been sent forward to me. A mobile suite factory that was to the north of my current position. It was a simple hit really. Enter under cover and strike the central places necessary to bring the whole place down with minimal casualties. This was a mission that I was glad did not mean I would have to steal a mobile suit to complete and would also provide me the opportunity to find one that could be used until I have found a replacement for my Gundam.

02 has expressed a satisfaction in being allowed into the field once more as well. He, however, is claiming his mission will not be completed until the others have returned. I suppose this is perhaps a sign that they will be doing a strike on a military base. A pang of something has made itself known to me at the thought. Though I am unsure the origin of this emotion. It is similar to what I have been told anger is described at, however, it is not as severe, nor is it directed at anyone in particular…

I will examine this sensation further.

01

* * *

 

 

**July 3rd - AC 195**

The feeling of being back in the battlefield is one that I can only assimilate as similar to putting on a pair of well-fitting shoes. The sensation is comforting and well known while the time it takes to adjust can vary. I was more than at home the moment I slipped into the base, the act of getting what I needed to get in was almost too easy.

I spent a day scoping out the entire base and locating the points of interest so I would know the places that I needed to ensure were demolished entirely. As it stands I will need a total of seven charges. For which I was glad there was not too great a distance from the large military base that I stole them from. It was during the confusion caused there that allowed me to enter and place the charges before anyone had even found out I was in the building.

The first places I targeted were the main manufacturing floor. There was an abundance of machinery and supplies used for making and repairing mobile suits located so it was the most obvious place for detonation. As were the main labs for production, research and the information centre located in the middle of the building.

I was pleased as I placed all twenty three charges in the span of an hour. A feat somewhat hindered by the inconsistent difficulty with my left knee. Clearly it had not yet healed entirely before the mission. This did not stop me, however, and I had cleared the blast radius in the allotted time.

The exit was not as smooth and I was required to take the lives of several guardsmen that happened upon me during my retreat. Two caught up with me in the corridors just in front of the mobile suit hanger, the third came up behind me as I was setting the last charge. When I took them out it was a few minutes before I was ready. Seating myself in the newest model of the Aries I made short work of evacuating the building satisfied with the outcome of the mission.

The escape from the scene was uneventful, only four of the enemy's mobiles caught up and those were quickly shot down. The last thing I did was to send word to the safe house to see if Wufei and 02 had moved to the next safe house as we had discussed and made my way to the new safe house to rendezvous with them.

As it stands now we have settled into a cabin in the woods just on the outer region of the nearest city. The others will be meeting the three of us there when their missions have been completed. The time away from the two has proven to be destructive to the cooperation between the two pilots. Upon my arrival the two were in the throes of Wufei attempting to cut 02's braid from his body and the baka was fighting him tooth and nail.

As the evening has progressed I have overheard an array of nicknames that have begun to grow increasingly degrading to the honour conscious male. The one that got the most volatile reaction was the evening ending "Wuffers". The reaction was so violent that for the first time since the five of us had begun working together I was convinced the Chinese pilot would actually kill 02.

Not that I blame him. The baka has been as annoying with me as he has always been and yet again he had claimed the second bed in the room I was staying in. Of course, in the last house we had been limited to the three rooms that had left us doubling but this one is large enough for each of us pilots to be allowed a room to ourselves. Despite this fact, 02 has insisted on setting up his things in the other side of the room.

As it is now he is snoring away in the bed. I may have no choice but to hold the idiot while Wufei ends him…At least then we would all get the peace I've been lacking since the American came into the picture.

01

* * *

 

 

**July 6th-AC 195**

In the days past I have finally uncovered the source of the tension between 05 and 02. It appears that upon his return to the last safe house 05 quickly discovered the small visits that 02 has been paying to the back yard. The Chinese pilot has been accused of mercilessly banishing the poor thing to its death, a statement I feel safe in assuming is greatly exaggerated by the idiot. However, 05 does admit to demanding that 02 send it away. This seems to be the main reasoning behind why 02 has been looking endlessly for ways to torment the other pilot.

The escalating violence between the two pilots was at long last put to an end upon the arrival of 04. The blonde having returned very much in the middle of a fight. One I was more than content to ignore. They had been doing this over and over again in the few days we had been there waiting for the last of our team to arrive.

Quatre had been in the middle of saying something in greeting to us as he was stepping in through the doorway. I did not bother looking up at him so I am not entirely positive what the expression that crossed over his face was at seeing the three of us. However, from the sound of his voice when he at last began speaking again I could only assume that it was a shocked one.

I personally had settled myself into the couch to work on my latest report. The other two pilots had been bickering back and forth over the channels they were or were not interested in watching as 02 flipped lazily through them. Despite paying no attention to the television I could tell by the continual changes in the dialogue that 02 was not staying on a station for more than a few seconds each. 05 at long last yelling at the baka for his stupidity.

The one thing I have discovered about the braided pilot through my observations of him during these few weeks is he does not handle being called stupid well. The baka retaliated by yelling at 05 and butchering the other's name in another form of "nickname" that made his name sound more like a dog than anything else.

From the sounds of the progressing chase I could guess with a fair amount of accuracy where the two had ended up upon 04's return. They had most likely ended upon half on the floor near the space between dining hall and living room. The overly loud squawk that had punctuated the sound of something heavy hitting the ground could only mean that Wufei at last caught the baka and, from the sounds of things, was in the process of attempting to strangle the life out of the American.

Quatre's yelped "Wufei get off Duo" actually made me feel a pang of something I can only assume is akin to …pity for the blonde. He hated to see others fighting, especially his comrades. The two seemed to listen though as Wufei removed himself from 02 and went off grumbling under his breath.

After this, I did not bother to listen to the conversation the three participated in. There was a good number of childish mumblings about missing the blonde from 02. In the end the three, the tension still palpable in the room, sat together watching some form of television broadcast or other.

The mission that the four of them will be going on has been sent to me to lie out and to assign missions. I have been studying the schematics and the blue prints for the base inside and out and gave them a full report upon my findings. When Trowa arrived I managed to spend some time siting alongside him discussing a few of the oddities I had discovered in 02's personality and also inquiring about the strange sensation I had encountered the other day.

Trowa appeared to seem somewhat surprised at first before returning to what we were discussing. He has explained to me that there may be something in my direct past that I, on some unconscious level, have associated to 02 due to the image of him that day. To be honest I can't fault the other for this theory. Whenever I think back upon that day and those few moments I cannot shake that odd sensation in my chest. As of yet I have not experienced this strange feeling at any other time while interacting or otherwise being near the American. I will have to examine this further.

With the other's plan laid out before them the preparation was a quick ordeal and before I knew it, they had already left. That was three days ago. I have been monitoring their progression and have managed an open communication with them during their set up for this mission.

It will rely heavily upon 02's skills of infiltration. It is the one thing I have witnessed first-hand and have a semblance of confidence in. As it stands, however, it will be a difficult task. The pilot of Deathscythe will have to make his way deep into the centre of the base and set a detonation device. With the device successfully planted on their main power source his next target will be their control room and main computers. I have instructed him to get as much information as is possible before he is noticed and then blow the place.

Now, while I am writing this, I have already begun receiving files sent encrypted through a rather advanced system. It is not a problem for me to translate the coded intel on my computer and I have let the others know that Duo has already arrived to stage two of the mission. Upon the completion of the data retrieval he is to set a virus into the system and then place a secondary detonation device upon the machine and then evacuate.

I have been maintaining a close eye upon the time since the first message came in and it is reaching the allotted time for the completion of stage two. I am unsurprised as right on the five minute mark the connection is severed and the flow of information disappears. This is entirely according to plan and I am taking the moments I need to ensure that absolutely every trace of this location that could be found from a trace is destroyed.

After all the plan is going as it is supposed to be. The others will be in place by now to cover 02's retreat and return to Deathschythe. The other should be arriving to his Gundam in less than five more minutes. I took the liberty of instructing them to send me word when the four of them were mobilized so that I could send a report to Doctor J to accompany the feed of OZ intel I have already been forwarding him.

The words that began passing through my screen to the connection I had set up earlier for the others to contact me were already beginning in a flurry. The transcript from their verbal messages flying onto my screen. The enemy had spotted Quatre and were firing upon him. This was too early. Maxwell still had four minutes until he was able to make it safely into his Gundam.

The fact aside the messages continued in that fashion. The enemy was upon them forcing the three pilots that were lying in wait for the explosions to engage in an unprepared battle. The attention drawing a large number of the enemy from the base.

Still there was no sign of Maxwell signing in. He had not checked in and what I could tell from the others they had not seen Deathscythe appearing in the battle. Where the hell is Maxwell? I have expressed my disinterest in the braided idiot. So too have I stated my bafflement at his being a pilot, but I have witnessed his skills in battle. The fact that he had not yet checked in is… I suppose Trowa would describe it as "concerning".

The time has now lapsed and still Maxwell has not messaged in and the others are being overrun. I can't help but to feel a frown upon my face as I am sitting here watching the transcribed messages between the three of my colleagues as they're clearly losing. Putting all three of them in danger of being killed or worse, captured.

It was as I was sitting there attempting not for the first time to get in contact with Maxwell. To confirm that he had escaped and returned to his Gundam so that they could retreat, that a message was sent from the feed that I had left open with Doctor J. This message was surprisingly not aimed at me, no instead, the signal was patched through the communicators that I have been monitoring from the other pilots directly.

"Leave the liability. That's an order."

Doctor J's words were blunt, cruel and absolute. There was no questioning a direct order. Each of the pilots knew that Doctor J had the full support of all the doctors in this order - save perhaps for Maxwell's trainer.

There was a long pause after this order and I could not help but to watch as the others one by one agreed to follow the order and retreated. I am not entirely sure what it is I am feeling. I have not experienced this gut twisting sensation before. The nails of my left hand have inexplicably sliced into the palm of my hand and I can feel the beginnings of a headache…and for some reason I am unable to unclench my teeth.

The idea that a fellow pilot was abandoned in the battlefield is not something I am accustomed to nor is it something I seem equipped to handle. For I am not able to find the right words to describe my mind set in these moments…

Mission Failed.

01


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters – am just borrowing for my own personal amusement

Warnings: Yaoi, Future angst, hinted dark topics, Character angst, Mild violence

Pairings: 1x2 , 3x4

* * *

Heero could not understand the emotions currently running through him. He had been staring at the computer screen for an unknown amount of time after completing that last log file. The knowledge of what he had read was running circles through his mind and he was for once having a hard time truly comprehending it. The meanings of the words upon the screen burning into his brain and screaming at him.

They had abandoned Duo to be captured by OZ on a mission. How was that something he could not remember? Also how had it not been something that had come between the four pilots that did remember it? In his memories, Heero could not once locate a time in which such an instance had been mentioned, nor even hinted at. Why had he not seen any tension between the pilots and the braided baka? After all, the American was always a hot blooded teen, his tempers running wild and his impulses overriding everything else.

Heero could not imagine that such a betrayal would be something that Duo would have easily forgiven. For a long time he thought over every moment of the war that he could remember. The moments that passed not only between him and the braided pilot but also Duo and their comrades. When time continued to progress and still no insights arose in his mind Heero did the only thing he could think of.

In a state of uncertainty like this Heero had often reached out to Trowa for assistance in understanding his emotions. He talked to Trowa to be sure of what it was that was eliciting the feelings inside of him and what they meant. More importantly he would rely heavily upon the ex-pilot of Heavyarms to help him sort out how to handle the way he was reacting and feeling. However, in this situation Heero could not see himself going to Trowa.

After all a large portion of his anger was directed at the banged male, along with a feeling Heero was not sure he could place. The feeling was painful and left his throat tight. The sensation was unpleasant and the desire inside of him to see Trowa held accountable for the obvious lies he had told Heero throughout the war and since was like a burning cinder inside of him.

Standing up Heero grabbed his jacket, buttoning up the thick double layered material closed. Gathering his laptop the ex-Perfect Soldier stowed it along with its power cord away in the new leather laptop case he had purchased just the other day for this very purpose. Slipping the strap over his left arm Heero checked his phone for messages. He felt a slight pang of disappointment at not having heard from a certain braided American so Heero sent a text to the number of the one person he could trust to see him in the state he was in at the moment.

Without waiting for the response Heero grabbed his keys off of the hook near his door and stepped out of his apartment. Letting the security system automatically lock into place he ensured his door was in fact closed up tightly. These precautions were something he knew he would never grow out of. It had been a part of him in the war and had been ingrained deep into the very core of his being. He had to ensure the safety of his home above all others.

Turning he made his way along the hall of his apartment to trail the same path he had taken not even a few hours ago in reverse. The halls were silent and empty. All the occupants having already arrived home in the time between then and now. The car park was likewise bare of anyone else.

Pulling out of the parking lot Heero let his mind settle upon the things it had been sorting through as he let his instincts focus on the act of driving. The path between his home and the Preventer's headquarters had become second nature to the ex-pilot in the weeks since he had begun working for them. With the lack of other cars to slow down his progression,

Heero was pleased to arrive at his destination a short twenty minutes later.

As he sat behind the wheel for a moment after he had pulled into his assigned parking space, Heero took a few moments to check his messages. The response he had been expecting was sitting in his inbox. The message being a simple request that he amuse himself for a half an hour more while she made her way to the office to meet with him. The idea of finding a way to distract himself from the problem at hand was one that Heero played with for a few minutes before deciding on a plan of action.

Leaving his car behind, he took the back entrance into the building. Heero scanned his security pass and walked through the set of electrical scanners that were designed to tell the security if he had any weapons. Not at all surprised when they went off Heero stepped to the left and pulled his coat off and placed his company issued gun on the table along with the secondary gun he kept in the holster on his left ankle. The procedure to clear security after that was easy and ate up only a few more minutes of his time.

The trip to the bottom floor was one Heero had made a few times and he was satisfied when he stepped out of the elevator to the site of the shooting range. Taking the time to walk the span of the entire range Heero picked the second to last booth. Setting down his computer case and coat Heero felt more than at ease as he set up the first target.

Running through the security check on his gun Heero then lay it down upon the table. He reached for the earmuffs, securing them upon his head. With this accomplished, he pushed the goggles that were required for his using the range into place. Straightening his back Heero felt his stance widen as he aligned himself with his chosen target. Only then did he reach to lift the gun from the table, raising it in his right hand to aim it at the target before him.

Feeling the weight of the gun in his hands was reassuring and helped to clear the ex-pilot's

mind entirely. No more was it plagued with the turmoil that the latest log files had caused, nor was the confusion over the feelings brewing inside of him pressing upon him in this moment. Taking a deep breathe he took aim and fired. The sensation of the weapon in his hand as the mechanism within it released was one that felt like an old friend.

Heero let the weapon settle in his hold as he squeezed the trigger several more times as he began his session. He changed the clip of his gun a few times along with the targets. Pleased each time to see that in the years since the war his aim had not deteriorated in the slightest.

When he had at last used up the last if his rounds Heero put his gun's safety on once more. Returning the weapon to its holster Heero took a little longer in removing the safety equipment than he had in putting it on. Letting the goggles and earmuffs settle where they had originally been Heero was already aware of the presence behind him before he ever turned from his target.

The woman behind him was in her early forties. Her hair a mess of chocolate curls atop of her head and they hung like ringlets around her heart shaped face. The woman's attire of choice was always that of the utmost professionalism. Tonight she had opted for a navy blue skirt suit. The bottom half was as pressed as ever, a pair of dark nylons and black heels suiting the choice of outfit well. Her blouse, however, was slightly open and her jacket was slung over her left arm. The only sign that she had made a special journey back into the office upon his request.

The most unsettling about this woman was perhaps the eyes that stared out at him from behind her curls and black lashes. She had the darkest blue eyes he had ever seen, even making the American pilot's pale in comparison. They often reminded Heero of Quatre's, the same all seeing eyes that could look into one's heart and see what resided there. She was staring at him intently with an air of comfort about her. Clearly she had not been there long.

"Agent Yuy," she said.

The woman's voice was clear and crisp despite the long hours she had clearly been working. After all, here she was at nine o'clock at night and like Heero she had been in the office before eight thirty that morning.

Clearing his throat Heero nodded his head to her in his customary greeting. He knew she did not expect much more than that. In the sessions that they had been having together they had moved on from his customary glare that was his standard greeting to strangers to the grunt of recognition. Now it was his nod and she seemed all too satisfied with the progression of their working relationship.

Nothing more needed be said between them as she turned and led him along, pausing at the elevator to wait for him while he gathered up his computer and jacket and followed after her. The trip was made in silence between the two of them, only periodically interrupted by the elevator's programmed voice announcing the floors they stopped at.

Stepping out of the elevator Heero took a left without needing the prompting. Heero made his way along through the hallway towards the other's office and waited only long enough for her to unlock the door and lead him inside. The image of the woman's clean and organized office was not something Heero had become fully accustomed to, however, he could appreciate her choice of orderliness and organization. He respected her filing system and had come to believe that they were perhaps of like minds when it came to keeping things in order.

"You wished to talk to me Agent Yuy? It is not common for you to call me into the office at this hour."

The female's words were quiet and straight to the point as she settled into the seat she often chose during their sessions. A tall backed red chair with a broad back and arm rests.

Heero did not need to look at her to know that she was watching him. He could feel her gaze upon his back like a weight. Not unlike the eyes of the braided pilot that had often followed him throughout the war.

Catching this thought Heero could not help but stop, momentarily confused. He had begun to wonder why it was that in the last few days he had come to think about the American baka more than he had in the many years since the war?

There was no reason for her to prompt him further. Heero began to report to her everything that he had been feeling and discovered since he had begun keeping a log file for her in the last few weeks. This included a detailed description of the discovery that he had made that day on his laptop. He paused as she expressed an interest in seeing the log files herself and he took only a moment to set up the laptop upon the coffee table before continuing.

After almost a solid forty minutes he had explained everything he had come upon in the time he had been reading these files. He explained the confusion and the uncertainty as to why the others he had considered his colleagues were clearly hiding these things from him. Then there were the unnamed feelings that were making a battlefield of his mind and insides. Heero felt a tension leave him when he had at long last finished. His shoulders dropped as he unfolded his arms and turned to face her from where he had found himself standing in the window looking out over the Preventer grounds.

The woman was watching him with an intense look within her eyes, her face firm and clearly set. The expression reminded Heero of Wufei's any time the Chinese pilot had come across a disagreement with Duo, or Trowa whenever an emotional dilemma had occurred during the war. It was the stern look of a sharp mind taking action over the wayward impulses of one's emotions.

"The emotions you are feeling are only natural, Heero. You feel as if the pilots have betrayed your trust. You relied upon them to inform you of the important things that could have occurred during your memory lapse. Clearly they have not been honest with you," she paused for a moment before continuing.

"It is not uncommon to feel confusion. Anger is also a natural reaction to such an emotional turmoil. You have questions that need answering. You have to decide if you wish to encounter the others with your questions now or after you have finished reading your own words and insights first hand."

With these words she went silent, letting her eyes speak for her as she settled back in her seat. Heero could not help but to watch her. Not for the first time he felt himself thinking that this woman would have made an amazing pilot during the war.

The woman's words were enough. The classifications of the boiling emotions that had been rolling through him was adequate to assist the ex-pilot in determining his next course of action. It was not like him to act rashly without all the information available. This was a personality trait he had often attributed to the braided fool.

Nodding his head, Heero stepped forward to close his laptop and gather his coat and bag. The dark haired man was not surprised as she simply smiled at him in that odd way of hers that was like a thousand words. She was dismissing him to do what he needed with that look. An invitation the male took willingly as he turned to leave, noting that as he left she was writing something in his file. Perhaps commenting on his decision to seek assistance in his emotional confusion.

This was not something he was unaccustomed to. She had often commented on his stunted understanding of human emotions and had quite frequently made notes of his insights and emotional breakthroughs in his file. She said that it was so that she could look back on it and see the growth he had accomplished through his visits with her.

Heero contemplated making the journey home and at last decided against it. Making his way down the two floors to his working space he stepped out into the narrow passageway that separated the kitchen from the higher agent's offices. Turning left Heero bypassed his desk entirely to enter into the abandoned kitchen.

Not bothering with the light Heero stalked the kitchen in silence and made the coffee he desired to the strength he preferred, seeing as how it was him alone in the office at this hour. The few minutes later awarded the ex-pilot with a pot of the dark brew that he had come to enjoy when he knew he would be lacking the appropriate eight hours sleep deemed healthy.

Heero considered taking the entire pot with him to his desk, however, he opted to instead settle for just one cup. The journey to the kitchen for more would ensure that he moved now and then rather than stay settled at his desk as was a strong habit of his if he had nothing to motivate him. With the aforementioned liquid acquired in, what he knew others would label as his "favorite" cup, Heero turned to leave the still pitch black kitchen and make his way along to his desk.

Settling into his seat he was not unsurprised at the ease he felt at leaning back into the high back of his chair. This was one thing he did not have in his office at home and he made a mental note to see about acquiring one for his home at a later date. This completed Heero booted up his laptop and opened the by now quite well known file upon his desk top.

Scrolling the mouse over the next log file Heero leaned back in his seat as he began reading the next file. A frown furrowing his brow as he saw the date…

* * *

July 16th - AC 195

I have been ordered by Doctor J to file a full report as to the events that have transpired over the last ten days. He has demanded that every aspect of my thought process be written in this file and sent to him to be scrutinized amongst him and the other doctors. I have healed enough to comply with this order and will now begin the full detailed account of what has occurred since the last log file, in which my fellow pilot 02, aka Duo Maxwell, was abandoned in the line of duty.

The day of the attack upon the base is what I could only describe as a complete failure. While we got the information we desired from the base, along with the destruction of their systems thanks to the virus planted in their computers, Quatre and the others had come under fire by a band of scouts that had not been accounted for.

By all intents and purposes they had no reason to have been in that region during the time

that the attack was occurring. Despite this, they had in fact come upon the blonde pilot and attacked. This had left Quatre with no choice but to return fire. This resulting in the attention of more mobiles, several squads having come from the base to assess the danger and coming upon Wufei and Trowa as the two had moved to assist the Arabian pilot.

The battle had raged on and to the credit of the three, they managed to take out a large portion of the enemy before they began to become overwhelmed. They were each facing close to ten mobiles with more estimated to arrive shortly when the order to retreat had occurred. There had been no signs of Maxwell arriving at his Gundam, nor had he checked in from any other mobile suit if he had been unable to reach his own.

The hardest to convince to leave the braided pilot had been Quatre. The blonde refusing until there was no other way, the only other alternative being their deaths or captures. When this had been made abundantly clear to the blonde, he had at long last agreed allowing for the three to escape, although barely.

The damages done to the three Gundams was uncountable but more so was the shattering of their morale. The Arabian pilot was damn near inconsolable upon their return to the safe house. The time it took Trowa to calm Quatre down was longer than I could truly understand; however, I suppose on some level I do. For I had been unable to stop shaking slightly at the thought of leaving a comrade in the line of fire as we had.

To my surprise, even Wufei was alive with rage at the idea of having abandoned Maxwell. He was tense and would pace frequently even while the three of us, Trowa having had Quatre lie down, were working to figure out the likelihood of the braided pilot's escape without their assistance. The outcome was looking bleak. From the reports the two gave to me in those moments I could not see any possible way that the other would have managed to slip through the enemy unnoticed.

It was late in the evening when at last the three of us had managed to calm ourselves in our own ways. Wufei disappearing into his room with the declaration that he needed to think and repent for the dishonour of abandoning a comrade. Trowa simply waiting to for a while, I could feel him watching me as I sat at my computer attempting to search through the information I had acquired during the mission to see if there was any other way that things could have happened for the American.

When I said nothing, however, the banged male seemed to come to some decision as he rose silently and left. I vaguely remember hearing him murmur something, a name perhaps,  as he left the room entirely. I could hear him make his way to the room he shared with the Arabian pilot and I knew from the distress of the blonde I would most likely not see the two of them for some time.

The next day things did not seem any better. The two pilots did not make any appearance at the breakfast table, Wufei having to take them a tray of food. Leaving myself and the Chinese pilot to eat in our own silent worlds. I could see the turmoil upon Wufei's face and I have recognized it now as the other's guilt. Trowa later explained to me that the other's morals had been greatly violated at the idea of abandoning a member of the team, but even then I could tell that this had harmed the other's personal comforts and left him feeling raw.

In my own way, this was something I could understand. It is something akin to the ache and painful tightness I experienced I believe. Something that was not a physical injury, however, was far worse than a personal wounding of the flesh. It festered in my mind and chest and would not be expunged no matter how hard I tried.

It was on the second day after the failed mission that I was able to find out any traces of our lost comrade. By hacking into OZ's systems by using the information sent to me during the mission I was able to track down records of an enemy being captured in an attack upon a base. Although there was no detailed information about the whereabouts of the base that had undergone the attack, the information lined up enough with my knowledge of their attack that I could assume with an almost entirely accurate percentage that this was in fact Duo.

This was only strengthened by the detailed accounting of a discovery in the regions to the north of the base in question. A high tech mobile suit had been found and taken into OZ custody for examination, testing and reuse.

The notation that the prisoner had made four escape attempts with unknown sources of supplies further strengthened this belief. I could only assume that he had in fact managed to smuggle the lock picks that was his speciality in that braid I had often told him was a pointless weakness in this war due to its unpractical length. A fact I could no longer state with certainty. After all, it provided the baka a place to hide his tools for just such an instance.

The reports, however, expressed how OZ had decided to move the prisoner to a higher security facility that was more equipped to handle such a threat. The location was harder to find, however after some work and a good deal of hacking I was at long last able to access the information as to where Maxwell was being kept.

The place was a high security base with the utmost defenses. The likelihood of a successful

rescue mission could only be calculated at a low thirty percent successfulness. Despite this, I compiled all of the information I could and sent Doctor J the intel I had acquired with the request of being sent in to retrieve the braided pilot. My idea being to use the other three to draw the majority of the attention from the base upon them while I infiltrated the base itself to rescue Maxwell.

When I expressed the inquiry of their willingness to participate in such a mission the three pilots seemed to be surprised at my suggestion. However, they quickly came to me on their own to say that they were in fact more than willing to partake in my idea. All that was left was for the response of the doctors and we were left waiting for a day or so more before any form of answer came.

When the answer arrived, it came in the form of an absolute and irrefutable refusal. As far as Doctor J was concerned there was no practicality in risking the life of the pilots let alone the risks of having the Gundams fall into the hands of OZ. Even when I appealed to him that as it stood Deathscythe was in their grasps the response was immediate.

"The liability is not worth the risk"

The others all received further orders from their doctors. Each of the three was told that

under no circumstances were they to attempt the suicide mission that was attacking the base in order to save Maxwell. To ensure that they would not do so they were each given an immediate assignment in the opposite direction. Ordered to attack an underground tanker that was bringing supplies to a manufacturing base to the south.

None of them wanted to leave, it was obvious in their faces and their bodies as they said their goodbyes to me. They could not look at me nor at one another as they made their way out of the safe house and to their newly repaired Gundams. I watched them as they left, having received no orders from J as of yet I was left on my own.

I am not entirely sure what it is that inspired the impulse to do as I did… however, I do not to this day regret my actions. It was not long after the others left that I made my decision. I had the information I needed and although I did not have the distraction I would require I had all I needed to complete the mission I had set before myself.

The journey to the base itself was a two day trip. I took care to fly at night and maintain cover as I got closer to the base. I left my Aries suit hidden in the brush a few leagues from the base and took to foot. The grounds were just as I had discovered. They were surrounded on three sides by a thick forest that left most of the grounds covered which offered a good supply of places to hide. The north front was covered by the mountainside that loomed high above the base offering a back and protection from attack in that direction.

The trip through the woods was slower on foot but far safer than if I had used the suit. I arrived in the early evening. The route I had taken bringing me to the southern entrance to the base. I waited there until the cover of night had fallen and then I made my move. Using a rock to draw the attentions of the guards I lay in wait for them in the branches.

The first went down under me easily. I snapped his neck, regrettable since the man was only doing his job, however, I could not take the chance that the guards out here would come to while I was still making my way inside and raise an alarm. The second guard I rushed from behind and threw him to the ground beneath me. Holding my hand over his nose and mouth I was already studying the gate as I felt his body go slack beneath mine.

I disposed of the two of them in the bushes back far enough from the gates that I could feel confident that no one would stumble upon them until long after I had already completed my mission. I did take the uniform from the second guard as his form was closest to mine.

I slipped the outfit on and pulled the hat down over my hair and face. Rummaged through the two guards uniforms until I had ensured that I had all the keys and cards I could manage along with the weapons they had been carrying upon them. Slipping the guns into my waistband I stepped out of the trees and approached the door. Using their security pass to gain entrance I began the task of making my way along.

The progression through the base was far slower than I would have preferred. The place was larger than expected and I had not been able to get exact blueprints of the completed base. There were a few moments that I had to stop and compare what I was seeing to the knowledge I had managed to attain about this place. Another problem that I encountered was that the security cards I had did not seem to be compatible with locks on the basement. Which was where the prisoners were held.

This left me having to spend time backtracking to find a guard whose card would in fact work. It took me far too long to locate the man who was complaining loudly to his comrade about the braided pest that had bitten him previously that day. I could not help the faintest of smirks at the thought of this idiot encountering what I liked to call the baka's stubborn streak.

When the American wanted to he could even out-stubborn Wufei which was a feat to be marvelled at seeing as how the Chinese pilot was as hot tempered and hard headed as anyone I have ever encountered. The momentary distraction was short and soon I had relieved the man of his security pass. Making sure to leave one of the guards' passes I had been using with him so that he would hopefully not notice until a later time that his own pass was now missing.

Returning to the staircase I had to make myself look busy as a few guards were making their ways up the stairs. Their voices were loud and boastful as they were talking amongst themselves about the feisty bitch….one of them teasing the other for being head-butted before they managed to subdue him. Their words trailed off as they passed me and disappeared up the stairs above. To this day I am not entirely sure I understand why I felt an anger inside of me. I remember having the desire to go after them and shake them until their eyes rattled loose of their heads, however, I did not give into such an odd impulse.

I continued downwards until I had reached the basement once more and with the new security card in hand I was at last granted access to the basement. The halls that led along in this place were dark lit and badly kept. Clearly there was no concern about the cleanliness of this place. Perhaps they did not care that their prisoners were kept in such filthy environments. Looking in each cell as I progressed I was not entirely surprised when none of the usual cells held the reason for my coming here.

I did not find Maxwell until I had scoured over half of the prison hold. In fact, it was at the very furthest block to the exact opposite of the doors I had entered onto this floor that I came across the high security cell block. Each cell was a equipped with a door made of probably twenty layers of solid metal with only the narrowest barred windows near the top for a guardsman to look in to ensure that the prisoner was not waiting to ambush them. Although how this was possible I am not entirely sure, for when I glanced inside them I could not see anything but pitch blackness with in

I had looked into ten of these prison cells and still I had not encountered the person I was here for. I was almost about to give up when there was a movement in the cell I was currently looking into. There was the slightest of movements, a long leg flickering out of the light that the small window provided. I strained to hear inside and heart the faintest of grunts from the occupant.

Calculating the risk of opening the cell to find that this was not in fact Maxwell I decided that this was a chance I had to take. If I did not look and continued searching for signs of the other I could be wasting my time only to have to return after not finding the braided fool anywhere else. With this decided I reached for my pass and used it to open the door.

Pulling the heavy metal open I can still remember the smells that hit me then. There was the stench of bile that hung heavily in the room. The underlying smells were likewise that of urine and other bodily waste, however, these were not as strong. The worst at the moment as I stepped into the blinding darkness was the smell of blood…

The sound of movement from before me was the only thing that alerted me to the lithe form that leapt from the shadows a moment later. The form of the one who came at me being wild, beaten, bloody and unmistakably Duo Maxwell.

His first attack was a two fisted swing for the back of my head which I easily dodged, he was off balance and clearly staggering. However, as he missed he reacted far quicker than someone should in the condition he was in. He dropped his weight onto one leg and swung the other at my face as he spun. The appendage flying at me far faster than I had anticipated leaving me unable to dodge it so I did all that I could, I reached up to grab onto his ankle to stop him from making contact. The other's ankle slamming into my hand solidly and with a force that left my hand temporarily numb even as my fingers clamped down on the other's pale skin.

In that moment we stood in perfect stillness, his wild eyes finding mine in clear astonishment at my having managed to stop his attack. Sure I know that if I had been a lesser man I probably would not have been able to accomplish this. I doubt even my fellow pilots could have pulled this off, however, the training I had undergone had left this a simple matter. The look that passed over those blue eyes was one of shock and then changed into fear and continued into a far wider range of emotions than I am accustomed to or able to understand. The tint of pink that came to his cheeks indicated that he felt embarrassment at my seeing him in such a state.

With the immediate danger of him attacking me now over as he knew who I was, I was at last able to truly study him. His hair was loose and hung down his back in long chestnut strands. I have never seen the braided baka without his hair in his trademark braid. He often jokes that he showers with his hair that way…a few chunks of his hair looked shorter, as if handfuls of his hair had been ripped and broken, blood at his scalp further supporting this theory.

The entire left side of his face was swollen and bloody. His eye looking very much as if it was healing from having been swollen shut, the shades of black and purple around it a clear sign of the previous damage. His cheekbone was split which could clearly indicate that he had been struck in the side of the face with something hard, most likely the butt of a rifle upon his capture, or one of the subsequent failed escape attempts. His lip was also split in several places.

There was the tell-tale swelling about his nose, along with the bruising of his right eye that left me to believe that his nose was probably at one time broken. With further inspection I suspect he reset it himself during his stay in the cell, we will have to monitor its healing as it progresses.

The rest of his body was likewise an array of bruises, abrasions and injuries. From the slack way his left fist was clenched he had most likely broken a few fingers, or had them broken during interrogation which is more likely the case. The way in which he is favoring his left leg rather than his right is also a good sign that his ankle or knee has been hurt during his stay here.

The last thing that I noticed during my evaluation of the other's well-being was perhaps the most surprising. The braided fool's pants were in shreds and through the holes and tears I could see pale skin savagely bruised. The sight made a part of me frown as I stared at him and then glanced once more to the state of his clothing. For a few short days of imprisonment they had been all but destroyed.

"…Hee...ro," he whispered

The raspy voice was what drew me from my thoughts. Glancing to the American's face I

could see his uncomfortable gaze as he shifted faintly tugging at his ankle in my grasp. I immediately released him and he stumbled backwards before he could at last catch his footing. He didn't look at me for a while before at long last straightening himself up and stepping forward.

"It took you guys long enough!"

The next part of the mission was by far the hardest. I was unable to remove the chains as it would be harder to explain why I was escorting a prisoner along with no cuffs. I managed for the most part to guide us along to the stairs without incident. However, that was as far as my luck and planning held out.

As the two of us arrived safely to the stairwell an alarm went off along the entire base. A clear signal that somewhere along the way someone had been alerted to something amiss in the base. It could have been any number of things that caused the alarm to be hit. Though any way I looked at it this was not good for myself and the pilot I had come to rescue.

Unlocking his cuffs we took off along up the stairs the three floors to where they kept the suit docks. This was going to be the hardest. Especially with the alarm now bringing everyone to arms. As we arrived there was already a volley of gunfire that met us and the progression further was slow and took us everything to make even one step forward.

By the time we had come into view of Maxwell's Gundam I was all but out of my artillery and had had to resort to scavenging weapons from the bodies of our enemies as we continued along. The entire thing took far too long but at long last we made it to the Gundam. The braided baka was the first to climb up to the cockpit as he has the access codes and things to get the mobile suit functioning after all...

To this day and with further consideration of what happened after Maxwell had first entered the cockpit I feel there was no other line of action that I could have taken. In those moments I became aware of a soldier with Maxwell in his sights. The braided pilot unable to react quickly enough in his distracted and already injured state I made the decision to put myself between my comrade and the line of fire.

An action which I can describe the consequences of with a certain clarity. I can still remember the look of surprise on Maxwell's face as I was suddenly in front of him. His eyes were wide and his face lost what little colour the running had given back to him. His blue gaze burned with something akin to fear, it was something I was not unaccustomed to seeing in the gaze of my enemy, however, this fear of his was far worse. It was daunting the depths of that terror and it was entirely directed not at me…but for me, I am not sure how I know this but it was so clear to me in that moment. Maxwell understood what had happened and what I was doing for him and was afraid for me.

The next clear memory of that moment is the feeling of the bullet ripping itself into me. The burning ripping starting in my left shoulder blade and progressing inwards as the bullet rushed forward on its path. There was a moment in which I am positive I felt it strike something internally and then my breaths became labored and difficult.

From that moment on I am not entirely sure I remember much more than flashes. I can remember the sensation of arms around me as my body was not able to remain standing at the damage done to me by that bullet. I can clearly remember the sounds of cursing and being leaned against an incredibly cramped space, along with the sounds of battle and the sensation of being thrown about violently.

The next thing I was aware of is the feeling of a heavy weight upon my chest. The warmth around my body that stopped at my shoulders suggesting a thick layer of blankets was upon me. The tightness in my chest as I contemplated movement suggesting that I had been cut open, perhaps to fix whatever it was that had been damaged by the bullet and then stitched shut. With this realization I chose not to move, opting instead to lie as I was. Upon my back and search outwards with my senses.

I did not dare open my eyes just yet. The heaviness of my lids suggested that I had been unconscious for some time and the sound of the early morning was another indication that the light of the room may bring a soreness to my unprepared eyes. The sounds around me, however, was not that of a hospital…there was the steady sound of an IV drip to my left which I assumed explained the faint stabbing pricking in my left hand.

All of these things were not to be unexpected in my recovery from such a wound…however, I was surprised to find that I had no recollection of exactly where this place was. Where exactly had I ended up this time and how had I come to be here? I could remember being inside of Deathscythe as the braided baka attempted to pilot us out of the enemies' base single-handedly. Had the idiot managed such a daunting feat?

The thought of the other brought one last thing to the forefront of my mind. The weight upon my legs was not one I could attribute to anything that would be useful in one's healing and so I could not understand exactly what it was… As I shifted my leg in the slightest to test what it was upon it I heard the faintest of groans.

Finally daring a moment to open one eye against the bright glare of the morning light I was rewarded with the pain I had expected. However, in that quick moment I was also awarded with the blurry, dark featured image of the male that was leaned over my bed side. The person having clearly fallen asleep in the chair to my right and ended up sleeping with his head upon my right knee.

It was unmistakably the face of the braided fool I had risked everything to save. The idiot who I had felt indebted to and gone in to save despite direct orders against such an action. As it was now, the other had clearly managed to escape the enemy and what was more he had dragged my damaged body through all of it with him leaving me once more in his debt.

"Heero…you idiot."

The other's voice was like a shout in the silent room. The sound of a faint sigh followed it leaving me to believe that the braided fool was in fact still asleep. I did nothing to remedy this and simply lay there.

For a long while I stayed as I was. Laying in that semi awareness, letting my mind assess the damages I had sustained this time and the time it would take for me to heal. It could not have been more than a few hours when I felt that weight shift off of my legs. The sounds of the other stretching and then nothing was all that I could hear in the room. Yet still I lay with my eyes closed, not letting my breathing change from the steady rhythm that would suggest that I was still asleep.

I heard the other rise from the seat and assumed on some level that the braided pilot would leave me then. I did not, however, expect to feel the sensation of someone leaning over me. Nor did I understand the sudden sensation of weight upon the pillow to the left of my head until I felt the sensation of hair brushing against my forehead, the only thing I could attribute this to being the American's bangs as I felt the faintest of touches of …was that lips? It was a gentle, tentative touch to my right cheek accompanied by the warm wetness of something falling onto my face.

I remember smelling salt in that moment so I can only assume that it was in fact a tear? This is not something I can understand and I will have to speak with Trowa in regards to this after I have completed healing. However, I will return to my report of what happened after that as it is also most strange.

The braided baka stayed as he was for a long time. He leaned over me as such just hovering over me for the longest of times before at last he pulled back. I felt the weight leave the bed and could no longer feel him over me. I heard the other's silent steps, amazingly the braided pilot could be as silent as a cat when he chose to be, leaving towards where I could only assume the door was.

"You should not have risked yourself for me…I love you for it though…"

The pilot of Deathscythe's voice was so silent that if I had not been trying to listen for the other's almost non-existent footfalls I probably would not have heard them…The other's words were both not unexpected but at the same time so entirely unintelligible to me that I was left stunned for a long time.

He was chastising me for putting myself in danger to rescue him when it was a fool's errand…however, this statement of love? What does this mean? I have no understanding of what the concept of love is and so I cannot understand what it means in this situation. Why would Maxwell say he loved me?

This occurred yesterday and I have been told that I was unconscious for an entire twenty four hours after Maxwell managed to get us to safety. The form of safety being in the presence of the Maganac Corps who have apparently managed to make themselves a base here in the desert almost an entire seven thousand leagues away from where we had been when I lost consciousness…how Maxwell managed such a feat I am not sure. I have heard him attributing it to his alter ego, Shinigami. A quirk I have noted he does now and then during the heat of battle, perhaps it is much like my own mask …allowing him to do what he must in the battlefield to complete his missions.

Whatever the case may be the two of us have been here for two days now according to Maxwell and the others will be arriving in the next few days. Maxwell told me that he had contacted Quatre while he was fleeing the enemy. The blonde, after getting over his initial shock at seeing him safe and then again at finding out that I had acted against direct orders to save him, had provided him with the coordinates to the current base.

It had been them that had patched the two of them up and they have done much to assist us. As it is Maxwell sleeps a lot to recover from his imprisonment though he does not sleep peacefully. He has woken me many times from my own healing sleep with shouts and yelling directed at the shadows of his captors that still torment him in his sleep. Some of the things he says I do not understand…nor do I like what I do understand…but with their assistance we have managed to rest safely.

I have assessed that it will be some time until I will have the strength to leave this bed again, as it is I have written this report from the bed I have been given during my stay here and Maxwell is tossing and turning beside me yet again.

I am once more without a mobile and will need to borrow one or steal another from OZ when I am able to enter the battlefield again. This will not be something that I am unable to do so I am not worried in the least.

Report Complete

**  
01**


	6. Chapter 6

Heero sighed faintly as his eyes unfocused and the screen became blurred. As he blinked in an attempt to clear his vision he couldn't help but to realize something. He had been staring at this line of his report for the last few minutes and yet he had been unable to make sense of what he had just written. With this realization Heero shook his head and deleted the last twenty or so words.

Pushing himself from his desk, he rose to his feet. Turning soundlessly from his computer the dark haired ex-pilot rolled his shoulders, pausing only long enough to grab his cup before beginning his well-worn trail to the kitchen to refill his coffee. As he wandered passed his colleagues he could vaguely feel the eyes of Eric, his desk mate.

The young male was a few years his elder. His hair was a slightly lighter shade of blonde than Quatre's and the man seemed to like keeping it long. The well groomed locks paper straight, the otherwise flat appearance kept in check by the fact that the other's hair was quite obviously cut in layers. The effect leaving a rather light looking style that definitely complimented him. Heero had spent a long while when they had first received their assignment studying this man across from him while determining if he was someone he could share his space with.

Heero had been pleased when the other seemed to be as neat as he had found Trowa to be even if he did not possess the at times obsessive orderliness that Heero himself was so proud of. Unlike Heero however the male appeared to be a strange combination of Quatre and Trowa in his mind's opinion. Through observation the other had demonstrated an acute sensitivity to other's moods and a calm manner in which he handled the emotional situations he found himself in.

Heero considered the other as he often had in the last few weeks as he poured himself a cup of coffee. However, he could not help but to notice a faint flickering in the recesses of his mind as he thought about the two males that had been his comrades previously. The rumbling sensation in his gut that his counsellor had helped him to diagnose as the feeling of betrayal the other day had a firm hold upon him. As well as the anger that she had informed him was often seen with this emotion.

The thought of the two made Heero hesitant, he was unsure how he felt beneath that feeling of anger and betrayal. A fact that was uncomfortable for the dark haired ex-pilot. After all, he had yet to respond to the wedding invitation that had arrived in his mail. Even worse was his lack of response to the email he had received the next day from the silent banged man.

Sitting down once more Heero pulled up his emails and let his eyes trail over the familiar words that were waiting for him. The words were clearly Trowa's.

_Heero,_

_I know that by now you should have received the invitation that we sent you and I have discussed with Quatre the topic of best men. He has thought long and hard and has already had a few words with Duo about being his best man leaving me with the task of finding my own. Which is precisely why I am emailing you._

_I wanted to call you directly, however, Quatre and I have been visiting several of his developments in the colonies leaving our times of availability to be sporadic with large gaps between them. This was the best way of contacting you directly prior to the wedding._

_I would very much like for you to act as my best man. If you accept then I will be most grateful and I look forward to seeing you at the wedding._

__

_Trowa_

The implications and the trust placed upon Heero in this email were noticeable even for the dark haired ex-pilot. Trowa clearly wanted him as best man, a job Heero had asked Sally about the day he had received the email. Frankly, he could see a part of himself that would have felt quite flattered and pleased upon receiving this request from his friend even a few weeks ago.

After all, he had been close with Trowa during and following the war. Heero could even see the emotions that one may feel for a brother between them. They had both had very similar childhoods and had been given their names later on in life. It had been Trowa who had taught Heero much of his knowledge of the complicated intricacies that were human emotions. With this bond Heero had trusted the banged male profoundly. Which was why the recent revelations had caused such uncertainties within Heero.

"Problem, Yuy?"

Heero grew tense as he heard the voice just to the left of him, the sensation of someone leaning over him registering a moment later. Heero felt himself frowning as he glanced sideways to study the person who had penetrated his personal space without his prior notice. The first thing that came into view was dark purple hair that fell about the male's face. From what little he could see this person had made it his business to find out what it was Heero was reading.

Without even looking at the keyboard Heero switched screens as he turned to face the male more to study him. The sensation of understanding hitting home a moment later as he caught the other's face, recognition kicking in as he felt the corner of his lips curl upwards faintly as he met the smirking man's gaze. Nick straightened up to look at him with a faint quirk of his head.

Heero took a moment to study the other more thoroughly and noted a few differences other than the colour of his hair. He could see a dark tan had begun forming and the length of his hair had increased since he had last seen him. The most prominent difference, however, was most likely the ring Heero could see upon the young man's left hand. The silver was weaved in a mockery of and olden day Celtic knot. Heero couldn't help but thinking that it suited the other.

Heero quirked a brow at the purple haired man as he watched him standing there, Nick's hands on his hips and his feet braced wide apart in a posture Heero had come to know as his "bring it" stance. The look upon his face was an odd combination of amusement and something that Heero had begun to recognize as friendly concern. This he had come to realize, when he thought about the expression in comparison with Quatre during the war.

"What on earth are you doing here, Nick?"

Heero could hear the faintest tone of something akin to amusement in his own voice. It felt somewhat foreign to him but he could not truly help it. A part of him was pleased with seeing the other male. Perhaps it was a relief to see the man that reminded him very much of the person who had been on his mind for a large portion of time the last few days.

The other chose to answer him with a faint snicker and a thumb jerked at the "visitors" badge that he had clipped to the collar of his shirt. Nick's eyes danced between Heero and his computer faintly before turning to the clock upon the wall to Heero's left. He lifted an eyebrow, quickly followed with a head tilt that could be perceived as a gesture to go.

Heero felt a moment of hesitation pass through him. After all, he still had a few more minutes of work and he was not one to shy away from his commitments. However, he could also justify it that he had worked through his lunch. This was in fact true so in the end Heero closed down his computer, gathered his coat and bag, and rose to go with him.

The walk was one made in silence, neither of them needing to express anything as they went along and no one stopping them. At one point Heero caught sight of Wufei off to the left of him, the Chinese male glancing up from his desk as they passed by his office door. The same stirring that occurred inside of him every time he thought of Trowa and Quatre rose briefly at the sight of the black haired ex-pilot. Luckily the moment passed quickly as they continued to the elevators and then out of the Preventer's headquarters altogether.

Heero followed Nick as far as his motorcycle, the two of them taking a moment to decide which café they wanted to go to near his apartment complex and then separating to make the journey there on their own. For which Heero was grateful. He had never been one that liked to engage in dialogue while driving or piloting.

Slipping into the driver's seat Heero glanced into the back seat of his car and hesitated. He could see his laptop bag from his seat. The plan had been for the dark haired ex-pilot to return home after work and continue reading the log files that he had spent much of his time engrossed within over the last week. Despite this, Heero knew that he could not blow Nick off so he turned on the car and pulled out of his parking space.

The trip was slower than he preferred, after all, the traffic was pressing in on all sides due to the large amount of people who like him were leaving their offices to make the journey home. This was part of the reason why Heero usually liked to work a little later into the evening. Most nights he could avoid this mess entirely.

By the time Heero had pulled up to the small coffee shop half an hour later he was not surprised to find the familiar motorcycle parked out front already. Heero knew how quickly Duo had been able to weave through a traffic jam. It would only make sense that if Nick could handle his bike with even a quarter of the skills the braided pilot had he would arrive before him. With this in mind Heero parked and moved to wander in.

Glancing around absentmindedly Heero realized something. Despite his affinity for the dark liquid that was this place's advertised specialty he had never partaken in the act of purchasing a cup from this place. Then again Heero had never understood what the logic was behind purchasing overpriced cups of coffee from shops such as this when he was able to receive coffee for free at his place of work.

Spotting the by now somewhat familiar purple head of hair Heero stepped up to the booth the other had made himself comfortable in. As he was making his way across he could see a tall male with short blonde hair rise from the booth and make himself scarce. Heero glanced after him and could only assume that he was perhaps the husband, momentarily he considered that he should probably introduce himself to his friend's chosen partner. Brushing this thought aside Heero sat himself in the seat across from the purple haired man.

"Hey, He-man."

Heero cringed at the nickname that the other had forced upon him. He could even feel his face setting itself into a faint scowl. The look was not something he was unfamiliar with. He had used it often throughout the war. The hard lines about his face and the tension that developed in the muscles about his eyes were a tangible indication.

There was faint sense of satisfaction as he saw the other blanch, the colour leaving his face even as he shifted faintly in his seat. His hands tightening slightly upon the cup he had before him. Heero let the glouwer lessen as he looked the other over once more, noting that the other looked healthy and happy. Something he could feel a sense of pleasure at.

"Nick, I take it you had a good honeymoon?"

Heero smirked faintly as the other seemed to need no more prompting. The smile that split over his face was one that he could feel tugging at his own lips in that strange way that Heero had noticed most smiles could do.

"Oh yeah, it was amazing. Ben and I got married in this little dinky church in the 'burbs, with just his mom and my dad in attendance and then we jetted off to the colonies. I always wanted to visit them after all, being home grown on the Earth unified sphere all my life and all.

"We started in L4 'cuz that's where he was born, but we didn't stay there too long…then we finished up in Hawaii here on earth."

Heero smiled a little as when the other had completed his synopsis of the honeymoon he jumped straight into the full details. In all honestly, perhaps he could have spared him some of the nitty gritty bits, however, the other seemed to have no problem with him knowing the intimate parts of his sex life. Heero did wonder if his husband might have cared but figured he would not bring up the fact he knew what they had done in that booth in a café on L2 when he eventually met the blonde.

The night progressed in this fashion. The other more than happy to natter away about himself and his life and Heero content to listen to him speak. There was something oddly soothing about the other's presence and the mannerisms in which he spoke and interacted with him. Heero had been watching the other for a few minutes when he managed to catch onto the train of thought that was currently running rampant in his mind.

Heero frowned faintly as he realized that he had been comparing Nick to Duo even on a subconscious level. To be honest, Heero could not deny the similarities between this male, born here in this town, and the American ex-pilot who had been born on L2. Their mannerisms were similar and the way in which they could banter on and on seemed the same. In fact, if the other had said he had no connection to one or more of his parents he would have thought the two might possibly be related.

This, however, was not the case. He had done a thorough background check on Nick, just as he had every person he was expected to work with. The other had been born to two very loving parents who had both been born, lived, in this very city with almost no travel outside of it whatsoever. Neither had ever left the earth let alone travelled through L2 so there was absolutely no chance of there being any genetic similarities between them.

Despite this however Heero was amazed at how much Nick truly did remind him of the braided baka. Even down to the dorky grin and blinding smile he often wore. Though when thinking about this Heero noticed one thing that was different.

"You're really happy…aren't you?"

Heero could see that happiness reflected in the other's eyes. The look made his gaze alight with joy and his eyes sparkled with that obvious emotion…something Heero could not remember ever seeing in the braided pilot's blue eyes. Despite the smiles being so similar, that look did not match in their eyes.

The smile upon the other's face faltered hearing him and he seemed to consider the other's question before he smiled again and reached forward to poke Heero's forehead. The younger of the two blinking and then furrowing his brow as he registered the action. The first instinct that had come upon Heero as the other had reached for him had been to break the other's wrist, an act he may very well have allowed himself to do just after the war. As it was now he had managed to clamp down on the reaction and had instead left himself open for the other's action.

"Of course I am! Ben's a real sweetheart!"

The inflection behind the declaration was one of love and happiness. It made Heero feel a pang of something he wasn’t entirely sure of. Perhaps he felt curious about the way the other felt for this male that had become his partner in life? Heero to this day had not experienced an emotion that was described to be so vast and all encompassing. Anger, after all, was powerful but most of the time very limited. Regret was also a rather strong emotion but Heero was not as familiar with this feeling as others.

"You seem distracted tonight, Heero. That is not like you. Everything okay?"

Heero felt himself start slightly at the inquiry as he met the other's gaze. The ex-Perfect Soldier feeling a glimmer of what he knew to be called uncertainty. On one hand he knew that the other's insights were to be trusted. Nick had done an amazing job in helping him to find and install the entertainment system he currently owned, even though he did not use it often himself, when he had entertained Wufei or Quatre and Trowa they had all commented on the quality.

However, on the other hand what was troubling Heero was a matter of his inner workings. It was rare that he allowed anyone intel on his inner most thought processes other than those he had fought in combat with. In fact, the first he had other than the other pilots had been his counsellor and that had only been done whilst under orders.

"Hn."

It was the best answer Heero could think of while the other male sat across from him fixing that intense gaze upon him. The other's pale green eyes almost seeming to bore into him even after he had made his non-committal response and shrug. In fact with this act Nick seemed to become all the more determined to figure out the cause of his mood, leaning forward as if the closer proximity could give him further insight.

"Does it have anything to do with the request to be your friend's best man?"

The words drew a faint frown to Heero's face, he felt the muscles spasm and tense just milliseconds before it formed entirely. There was a semblance of truth behind that statement that touched a little too close to home. Heero could not understand how the other could have already put the two things together - as far as he was aware Nick had no previous psychology training.

Despite himself Heero felt his body tensing and he glanced out the window of the coffee shop. The only thing that alerted him to the fact he had reached to run his hand through his hair being the sensation of the softness of his hair under his fingers. Heero pulled his hand away with a faint grunt, irritated at his body's habit of performing that action. It was a tell of sorts.

"Ahh…so it does in have something to do with that, huh?"

Dammit, the other had read his body language. Heero glanced at Nick's reflection, the male staring intently at him. His arms folded in front of him, his fingers steepled to allow a place for his chin to rest. Those green eyes of his locked on every twitch of the younger male's muscles.

The silence continued between them for a long while, until at last Heero turned to meet Nick's gaze. Being entirely unsure as to why he actually began, Heero told Nick the general basics of why he was so tense, along with why the idea of being Trowa's best man was uncomfortable for him.

To his credit, Nick managed to stay in complete silence as he listened to Heero's dilemma - not saying anything until after Heero had finished talking. He even remained quiet for a time afterwards, seeming to think for a long while. This ended as he ran his fingers over his face and broke into a sheepish grin.

"Jesus man, that's some messed up shit…"

Heero blinked at the response. He had not really expected much in a way of answers. The ex-pilot knew he had to figure things out for himself. Though the reply that had come from Nick had left him feeling the faintest instinct to snicker, the look upon the other's face doing nothing to help him keep the smirk from his lips.

The night after that progressed at a far easier pace. Heero spending some time catching up with Nick and just talking to him for the sake of speaking with a human that was not in the Preventer's program. He found the insight of a civilian somewhat balancing to him and from what the other had to say about his husband he also knew that the man would be taken care of. Ben was an ex-soldier, having fought in the war and then immediately quit as soon as the fighting was completed.

Finally, however, the long nights he had been keeping and the desire to indulge himself in a few more of the logs from his unknown past got the best of Heero as he at last drew the conversation towards a mutual end. The dark haired ex-pilot feeling a strong gratitude for Nick as the purple haired male seemed to realize what he was doing and accepted it easily. The other grinning as they both stood up from their booth.

The two of them exchanged a brief handshake and at last Heero was on his way. As he wandered out of the coffee shop he passed another booth. The blonde seated comfortably within it nodding at him as he passed and Heero, feeling particularly interactive after a night of speaking with Nick granted him a nod rather than his customary death glare.

In all honesty Heero could have walked home from the café if he had not parked his car in their parking lot hours ago. So he took the time to climb into his car. Pausing only a moment when he spotted Nick and his husband leaving the café just as he was pulling out of his parking space. Honking once in a final farewell Heero did not bother looking back as he took off the short block and a half to his apartment. Satisfied and physically happy when he finally parked the car one last time in his designated spot.

Glancing to the clock Heero would have groaned if he had been anyone else. The time was already eleven o'clock and with his plans for the rest of the evening he knew that there would not be much sleep achieved tonight either. Not that there had been much of that in the last week. Shrugging this off Heero climbed out of his car, taking a moment to grab his laptop bag out of the back seat and then began his trip up to his apartment. The chocolate haired male taking extra care to be as quiet as possible so as not to alarm any tenants as he went, which he had no trouble doing.

When at last his door slipped closed and his alarm system was set Heero let himself relax entirely. He did not bother with turning any of the lights on. As it was he had memorized the layout of his home so well he could navigate it in complete darkness and in most situations. Old habits and all.

Finding the couch easily Heero rested the laptop bag on the floor and quickly extracted his computer. Setting it up in silence the ex-Perfect Soldier was content to sit in the darkness of the room with the only light being that of the moonlight streaming in through the window outside. Taking a few minutes he ran his body through the relaxation exercises he had made a point of using daily, just to chase any strain or tension from his body.

With this accomplished the dark haired male reached to boot up his computer and then open the all too familiar folder. The next file was curiously titled "Maxwell's recovery". How odd.

* * *

July 18th - AC 195

In my last report I ended in saying that the other pilots would be arriving as quickly as they were able. This was in fact quite accurate. I have to admit I was and still am rather surprised how quickly the three actually managed to arrive in the place that had been our safe house. The three of them even seemed to have stopped off to acquire my own and Maxwell's things. For when Quatre arrived he came straight to our room with two bags.

Upon examination I discovered a few of my printed files and discs that I had not yet disposed of. I did not feel any concern at the idea of the the other pilot handling my private information. After all as far as I have been able to determine the only member of the team that is probably just below my level of hacking abilities would have to be Trowa and the other did not seem liable to go snooping through my personal intel.

I was very pleased to discover that my laptop was included in the things that were brought and I have transferred my last log into it and destroyed all traces of it in the other temporary device I was using previously. I much prefer my own, perfected software to the equipment provided to me on the temporary machine and so was more than happy to return it to the others once I had completed the task of deleting my information.

The situation between the five of us has been incredibly tense. I am not at full understanding in regards to the reasoning behind why Quatre is behaving in the manor he is, however, I feel confident in thinking that it has something to do with the guilt he felt in abandoning Duo. I am certain I am correct in this assumption due to the hovering manner in which he has been fussing over the braided baka.

Although, through my observation I have come to notice that unlike previously, where Maxwell accepted the attention and seemed to enjoy it to a certain extent, this time the braided pilot does not appear to be comfortable with the blonde's presence. I am unsure but I feel perhaps it may have to do with the facts pertaining to the American's capture. As I observe more of the interactions between the two who were until recently the closest of our group, I am beginning to wonder if Maxwell may be feeling a sense of - betrayal I believe it would be called - at the fact that he was abandoned.

Maxwell himself has been acting not entirely like the blathering baka that I have come to know. In the days since I woke up I have noticed a quieter side to the pilot. Between my awakening and the arrival of the other pilots Maxwell spent most of his time resting with his fingers set and bound and his wrist wrapped and wounds tended to. The torture the other had apparently suffered is to be expected of a Gundam pilot…

However, while he seems to have managed to survive the physical aspects of his time in OZ there is something underneath the surface I have no understanding of. I have decided I would leave it up to the blonde pilot to handle. He is the one that can handle the emotional side of the braided fool, as it is the American has been disturbing my rest regularly with his shouts and tossing about. I have no idea what has been occurring in the braided pilot's dreams but most times he awakens himself quite violently…to the detriment of my sleeping schedule.

I did, however, witness an oddity even more peculiar than Maxwell's dislike of the attention given him by the other pilots earlier. I have watched all of the pilots as per my instructions from Doctor J and discovered that Maxwell tends to be a very physical person. He has the annoying habit of having to touch some small piece of your person whilst he is talking to you. He also obviously appreciates the touch of another, be it through the touch of a hand upon his skin or what I have been informed is the emotional release of concern, affection, and comfort, or better known as a hug.

Despite the numerous times in which I have watched the other instigate and enjoy such bizarre rituals as these shows of physical affection the other behaved to the contrary of his usual personality traits earlier. It was one of the moments in which Quatre had brought the two of us food, neither of us really having much energy to make the trip to the base cafeteria so the blonde opted to bring us our meals. As I was eating my food silently I did what I could to ignore the two beside me.

It was a small moment, Quatre trying to talk to Duo about what happened and the braided pilot choosing to eat his food in the wake of speaking in response to the other pilot's questions…The moments that followed the baka's decision were quick and would have passed by unnoticed if it had not been so entirely out of the American's character.

I caught sight of Quatre reaching out for Maxwell's hand out of the corner of my eye. It was not the first time I had witnessed the two holding hands. I had even seen Trowa comfort the blonde with such a gesture…although I have no idea what comfort the contact of two hands can bring it has often worked in the past. However, this time instead of welcoming the contact as he always has, Maxwell jerked his hand away from the blonde's.

The motion was smooth and he did not appear to even be looking at the Arabian pilot while he did it but he had rejected the comfort the other offered to him. This caught my attention and held it for quite some time as the two sat in total silence. The blonde having pulled his hand back, after it had hung out in the open awkwardly for just a moment and said nothing. The American apparently focusing entirely upon the food on his tray.

With further recollections this may not have been so entirely out of the ordinary if the two had begun talking as they usually did after Maxwell had completed his meal. However, this did not occur. In fact the awkward silence continued until at last the blonde cleared his throat and rose to his feet to take the tray from Maxwell. I watched as Quatre said a few soft words I did not care enough to hear and then asked if I had finished before he left the room entirely.

I have watched Maxwell periodically throughout the day since then and he has done very little towards approaching the others for attention unlike his usual habits would dictate. He has spoken to me, though, in a far more subdued manner than previously. I am beginning to wonder if something that the OZ agents did to him may not have caused severe emotional trauma upon the other pilot.

I will have to watch the other to assess the actual damage done to his mental state and report to the doctors if he proves to need to receive further training…

01

* * *

July 19th - AC 195

 

I believe my earlier observations of Maxwell have proven to be false. I had expressed a more subdued nature and that I felt there may have been some psychological damage done to the braided pilot due to this. I have been proven wrong.

During the night he had as many nightmares as usual however this morning he awoke in the flurry of action that I have come to expect from the baka. He has since then been his old chatter bug self and I have not been able to find any way of shutting him up. Even yelling at him has done very little, I fear perhaps he knows that my threats to end his life are for the most part in vain.

After all, my gun is all the way over there on the desk and I am not yet able to get out of bed and move around. A fact that vexes me, I believe that is the right terminology. It is a sensation of frustration to be bed ridden. The lung that was pierced by the bullet was once again my left one so the damage this time is more severe. Leaving me short of breathe and easily tired.

The threats and yelling which had successfully shut the blathering fool up now only silence him for a few minutes before he continues on his ramblings. It is driving me what I suppose the others would call crazy. I have thought of twenty seven different ways to kill the American if he would just come into range, which he has been smart enough not to do up till now.

I am not entirely sure about the other's interactions with 02. I have not witnessed much speech passing between Trowa and Maxwell in the time we have all known one another. Or at least the banged male never exchanged such frivolities. However, when the other comes to bring food for the two of us they are silent. Unlike usual where Maxwell would chatter at him in an attempt to get him to smile or speak to him.

The visits from Wufei are likewise silent, which in itself is unique seeing as how Maxwell seems to have created a new game in regards to the Chinese pilot - the goal being to irritate and annoy the Chinese pilot. The altercations between them have always been short and very rarely ending in anything but violence, most often from the Chinese male directed at the American. However, in the last day or so there have not been any of these. I have yet to decide if this is simply because the baka is hurt and knows better than to pick a fight with the other while he cannot fully defend himself or if it is perhaps something else.

I have not seen much interactions between Maxwell and Quatre. The blonde does not come to the room as often, I figure this has a lot to do with the guilt he has been feeling about the whole thing. I have made note of this and will have to insist that they figure things out before we begin missions upon our recovery…however, at the moment I lament the times the blonde could draw the idiot's attentions away from me.

Despite this constant attention from the American I have also had moments in which I can observe Maxwell when he is silent as well. These are rare and often involve him either eating or in the bathroom. The baka has a bad habit of leaving the door ajar and this leaves me able to catch glimpses of him in the mirror while he is dressing or coming in or out of the shower. What I have seen is not something I have become used to seeing in captives of war.

Maxwell's body is bruised all over and he has abrasions and obvious signs of torture. The most prominent bruises and damage I have been able to see, other than the breaks and damage to his face have been the dark and multi layered ones that settle upon the braided pilot's hips, lower back and thighs.

I have witnessed the other pilot's tentative behaviour when it comes to seating himself and I can only assume that this is part of the reason. The patterns of bruising upon his skin, however, is something I find perplexing. The many tactics I have been taught about torture during my training have not involved anything that would leave him in such a state. Should he have been bruised about the sides that would have been an indication of his ribs being targeted and bruising about his neck and face would have been signs of strangulation and beatings…

I have felt myself frowning at times watching Maxwell and have spent a good deal of time looking into the possible causes of these unexplainable bruises. What I have found so far are small tidbits of information that would not pertain to the braided fool - the only thing I could find was an instance in which a female prisoner had been forced upon during interrogation.

I will have to ask Trowa when I am able to speak with him in private next. The baka's words have likewise been bothering me. I have no understanding about why the American would have said something so trivial, even thinking me asleep. Why would he say that he loved me?

I will be given the opportunity tomorrow as Maxwell is being taken to the base's medical wing for an exam to determine how his healing is progressing. I am looking forward to a few minutes of peace and quiet and have already requested that Trowa stop by for a mission summary.

01

* * *

Heero frowned as he sat back staring at the screen. His arms folding over his chest in a manner he had developed some time following the war. He could see the words skipping through his mind and the implications of what he was reading were so clear that he could not help but scowl. An anger boiling up inside of him at the thought of the braided pilot having been hurt in such a way.

In the years since the war he had come to understand a far wider variety of emotions and learned that while he had been taught one set of principles, not everyone lived by those same morals. In a way what drew him and Wufei together as friends was their similar honour system.

This had opened the door for him to assimilate and learn of the many different ways others behaved that differed from his. In doing so he had learned that while he would never harm a human sexually to gain any sort of advantage, others would do so. Another thing he had come to understand was the different forms in which people could achieve sexual gratification.

As a kid growing up he had learned the bare minimal, a man and a woman have sex and a child is the outcome of that interaction. However, in the years since the war, also greatly aided by the fact he had been such close friends with Trowa and Quatre. Heero had discovered that men could feel a similar feeling of devotion and love that often pre-empted a man and a woman's coupling. Likewise he had discovered that two women can also find gratification amongst their own gender, with the assistance of outside objects, something Nick had been all too happy to explain to him previously.

Thinking about this and recalling the description of Duo when he had discovered him in the base Heero felt a gnawing in his stomach. This was not something he was familiar with but it seemed to come accompanied with the boiling rage that was ripping through him. He could feel the nails of his left hand ripping into his forearm and a part of Heero had the fleeting impulse to hack into the data servers and track down the people who had so obviously hurt Duo. Heero brushed this aside with a shake of his head as he unwound his arms from about his chest and stretched his back.

Heero ran his fingers through his hair and stood up to take a minute to refill his coffee and glance at the clock to determine if it was practical if he read another log or if he should retire for the evening. The fact that it was closing in on one in the morning brought a faint grunt from the usually silent ex-pilot. He knew that his body did not agree with his lessened sleep in the last week but as it was he found himself unable to help but to dig into these log files. A part of him knew that there was something inside of these files that would tell him about the three months he was missing, and hopefully explain why his colleagues had been lying to him for so long.

As he was sitting down Heero noticed a notification for a new email flashing across his screen, "Apologies" was the subject line and the email address flagged a moment of his attention. Pausing on the icon for the next log file Heero switched over to his email program instead. Opening it to find the email he had been waiting for sitting in his inbox. The email response from Duo. Clicking on it quickly Heero let his eyes run over the surprisingly brief email. He could tell the other was in a rush due to the truncated and slang filled text staring back at him, however, much like the phone call he had shared with the other two years ago the words that he had sent him were very much in the style and fashion he had come to associate with the braided male.

_Hee-chan,_

_I wanted to apologise, man. I have been busy on a gig and wasn't able to pick up my emails till just now. I have been good. I am so looking forward to seeing you and Wuffers at the wedding. I'm going to be busy right up until then but I am sure we can catch up in full at the reception._

_Cheers_

_Duo_

Heero felt the corners of his lips curl up in the faintest of a smirk as he finished reading that. Honestly he should not be surprised. From what he had heard from Quatre and Trowa, neither of them had been able to nail the braided pilot down for very long. He seemed to spend a lot of time working away from the main colony that their company was based out of, often disappearing for long periods of time during salvage jobs.

The idea of the wedding though reignited the uncertainties he had been mulling over all that day really. He finally decided. He opened the email he had received from Trowa and wrote up a brief acceptance email and sent it off to the banged man. With this accomplished he sent Duo another email. The main body of the email simply stating that he would see him at the wedding and that when they were able they should see about catching up.

With that accomplished Heero sat back in his seat to click on the next log file.


	7. Chapter 7

July 23rd -AC 195

In the days that have followed my last log files, we have undergone a change of safe houses. I have finally been granted leave to move about, of course, in small bouts and with instructions to limit extraneous activities. With this freedom being officially given, coupled with the fact that I am again able to breathe a little more clearly, the five of us began to speak on the practicality of staying with the Maganac Corps. In all reality, although they are by all means far from the prying eyes of our enemies, they are likewise a great distance away from any potential target that we will have.

In the end, the four of us agreed to move despite Quatre's protests. He had expressed the wish for us to remain with them due to the need for a continued medical team to ensure Maxwell and my healing continued to progress as seamlessly as we have been so far. However, it was agreed that the continued proximity to the next mission was far more important to allow for better preparation.

In the short few hours after this decision agreed upon we took what we needed and also gathered what few belongings each of us possessed. The next thing to decide was who I would travel with, either way I would need to spend the duration of the journey in one or another of the pilot's cockpits while they flew their Gundams. I was grateful when Trowa spoke up to offer his own Gundam before Maxwell could suggest that I travel with him.

I have very little tolerance for the braided fool's continued blathering as it is in the containment of our assigned bedroom. The only benefit I could see from traveling with him for the hours that it would take to reach our next safe house was the close quarters of the cockpit would ensure I would be able to throttle the American and at long last end his verbal torment of me.

With this decided, the five of us thanked Rashid and his comrades one last time for the assistance they had offered us and then piled into the Gundams. The journey would be uncomfortable, I was after all, seated behind Heavyarms' pilot seat. The mobile suit lurched now and then as the four of them had to change altitude to counter turbulence or avoid detection. The whole thing was perhaps not the most unpleasant travel experience I have encountered, however, with my still healing surgical wound and the injured lung it was rather painful at times. Even for my heightened tolerance.

This was something I had discovered early on during this war. Though my body did not respond to temperatures and outward pain like most of my comrades do, I have noticed that the internal damages I have encountered in my time here on earth do in fact still hurt quite as vividly as I would expect. I suppose it is thanks to my training that I can compartmentalize my pain and ignore it more easily and for this I am grateful

The time spent in Heavyarms did give me ample time to speak with Trowa privately, and I told him much more of the details about the rescue than I had previously. The other's insights into what I had encountered and perceived upon my initial rescuing of the braided baka were interesting. He seemed genuinely troubled by the other's apparent appearance and the things I had heard members of the guards discussing.

When I told him about what had transpired while I lay resting he was silent for a long while before finally he spoke blatantly for the first time since I have known the banged teen. He outright told me that he could not hope to understand the full range of someone else's emotions and that I should speak with Maxwell in regards to my confusion if I wished for clarification as to why he had kissed my cheek. However, as I watched the silent teen, I noticed a faint look of uncertainty cross his face - followed by something I am not entirely sure I know how to classify.

I did notice him glancing at the screen that had Sandrock's position displayed. This very action caught my attention mostly because of the uncertain expression that had crossed over the male's face. Never before in my experience with Trowa had I seen anything other than his calm demeanour. The fact that he seemed upset over something did not entirely bode well. However, I was not able to pinpoint what it was I had said to him that had caused this reaction.

In the silence that followed this I watched him for a long while as he seemed to shake off whatever it was he was thinking that bothered him. His eyes left the screen and glanced to each of the other two's locations and status. The banged male's body visibly relaxing after a time and an obvious effort put into doing so from Trowa.

"Let's not tell Quatre about the condition you found Duo okay? I do not think it will do any good at the moment."

Although I do not understand how the condition Maxwell had been in when I rescued him would affect Quatre, I agreed. I suppose it probably has something to do with the underlying disturbance that had begun between the two pilots and even more so the blonde's clear and obvious guilt over having left Maxwell. I eventually agreed to keep the details to myself and Trowa relaxed entirely.

The rest of our trip was made in silence and I was more than content to rest off and on for the remainder of the time it took us to arrive. The safe house was a small cottage that Quatre had found in the mountains several hundred miles away from the next target. It was secluded, well hidden and would make a good central point for not only the immediate future's mission but there were over a dozen different manufacturing plants that would be reachable from this one location.

Upon arrival, however, I had the briefest of moments in which I cursed the Arabian. For as we stepped out of Heavyarms after hiding the suit in a cave behind the cottage, I felt the bitter bite of cold that hung in the air. While the freezing cold did not bother me I did find a sharpness on my inward breaths as the chill did much to aggravate my still healing injury.

The fact that snow littered the ground and came up to my shins was another thing that I did not approve of. After all, snow could complicate things that came with emergency situations. Having no Gundam at the moment there was much I had to keep in mind for such instances. I needed to know all routes from the cottage, where the best hiding places were. Including but not limited to caves and hollow trunks.

By the time, I had counted the steps to my top three escape routes and began my trip back towards the cottage I could hear Maxwell cheering about the snow. The braided fool was standing in the open with his arms out on either side, and his head tilted backwards. Watching him as he stood with his eyes closed and his tongue out to catch any wayward snowflakes that happened to land upon the appendage mentioned above I could not help but wonder -how had this idiot gotten us out of one of OZ's high-security bases with one single Gundam?

Could there be more to the braided American than what was visible? I had and have witnessed his abilities both with piloting his Gundam and in battle. From past experiences, I can honestly say that he has demonstrated a tendency to change during the heat of a fight. His usually childish demeanour disappears, and his strategy sharpens. Perhaps he is a more formidable soldier than I have previously given him credit?

The thought died quickly as the moment was broken as Maxwell shrieked loudly as he apparently managed to catch a snowflake. I cringed inwardly as his eyes opened to meet mine and that doofus grin slipped across his face. In the moment it took me to decide that everything I had just been wondering about the American was obviously not the case he had already begun walking towards me and begun yammering at me. This left me physically trying to force myself not to reach for my gun and plant a bullet straight between the baka's eyes.

An hour has passed, and I have made my stand here in one of the three rooms that are available in this place. Perhaps a small cottage like this was one of the most ridiculous ideas we have had for a safe house in a while. After all, I have blocked the door to this room barring anyone else from entering the room. With this accomplished I am more than positive everyone in the entire cottage can hear the baka's voice as he is, even now, yelling for me to open the door from the other side.

This time I refuse. He will either sleep on the couch or bunk down with Wufei. The thought frankly has brought a few, what I suppose would be considered "amusing", scenarios to mind. Most of them involving Wufei, Maxwell and the baka being suffocated or taken out in some manner by the Chinese pilot.

Somehow I do not see this being a peaceful intermission between missions...

01

* * *

Heero grunted somewhat and then decided that it was time for him to retire for the night. He took one last glance in his email and found the two emails he had received in response to his previous messages that evening. Duo's was reply simply saying he was looking forward to seeing him while Trowa's was filled with some of the information about the wedding that had not been available in the initial invitation.

Things like the date and time of the tuxedo fitting that he and Wufei would be attending. Duo apparently was making arrangements to meet Quatre's specific tailors some time during his trips for work and so he would not be present while the blonde and banged male would also be absent. This being due to a ribbon cutting ceremony they would be attending on L2 for one of the community remodelling projects the Arabian's company had been pushing through in the last few years.

There was also the address of the guest rooms that were available for him to arrive a day or so before the wedding. All in all Heero estimated that the entire trip to the location picked by the two ex-Gundam pilots would take about four days. Seeing as how as the best man for Trowa he felt he should make sure that he was available to help out as much as possible. According to Trowa, Duo was handling their music arrangement and had given them the name of a fantastic catering company that they were going to be using.

This left Heero with only the speech that was customary for a best man - which brought up the uncomfortable fact that he would have to write something befitting such an emotional event as a wedding. Frowning, Heero sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair, not entirely feeling particularly suited for such a task. The dark haired ex-Perfect Soldier decided to postpone any attempts to write anything, and he would seek the advice of his counsellor and perhaps Nick. The purple haired male had apparently loved the idea of a best man toast while not having one due to the small size of his and Ben's wedding.

This decided, Heero stood up and closed down his computer. He took the few minutes it required to wash his cup and leave it to dry in the rack before wandering off to bed.

* * *

If Heero had been any other person, he probably would feel rather horrible at the moment. He was standing watching his colleagues running through their circuits of the training tests. As it was, despite his lessened sleep he had just finished his own and was particularly pleased with his apparent record breaking time. The instructor had even informed him that he had beaten Wufei's obstacle time by two whole minutes, of course, he had informed him of this privately after.

Despite the accomplishment, Heero could feel the fatigue from having stayed up late every night this week. His muscles were far more tense than normal, and he was far more sore in some areas than was usual for something as simple as the tasks he had been told to perform. This was nothing like jumping out of a window or self-destructing. However, he had not needed to maintain such a strict control on his body since the war so perhaps it was adjusting. If this were the case, he would have to evaluate the damages done to himself by neglecting to get the full night's sleep as he had been.

"Agent Yuy! Since you have completed the test Lady Une would like for you to report directly to Doctor Taylor's office for an extra session."

This was Instructor Davidson. He was a short middle aged man that despite his slighter height had the frame of a fighter. He was solid muscle and had a definite air of strength about him. Heero had witnessed this man bring down an agent twice his size in some of the previous combat drills their intake had been through, so the dark haired ex-pilot knew he was a formidable opponent. Although nowhere in his league, Heero respected the man.

Nodding to let him know that he heard him Heero turned to wander off towards the changing rooms. Taking the time to shower and dress into his uniform Heero stopped to glance into the mirror and frowned faintly at the slight sign of sleep deprivation that he could see in the face of the male looking back at him.

Heero was at least several centimetres taller than he had been during the war. In fact, he was happy to say he had almost matched Trowa in height by the time the two of them stopped growing. His frame was still slender and solid but had lost some of its concrete edges to it. He looked less stony and was now actually a pretty fine looking young man in comparison to some of the people Heero had learned were "appealing" to others. His hair had not changed that much and except for the bangs that he allowed to grow a little longer than he had previously, Heero kept his hair relatively the same as he always had. He did trim it short now and then as was healthy for its growth, however, it was currently very much like it had been during the war.

His eyes, however, had changed greatly. The look in them was not as icy and cold as Heero could remember seeing so often when he looked at himself. He could even see some of the pleasure he felt about his appearance in the eyes of the male looking back at him. The other thoughts and emotions running both consciously and subconsciously through him could vaguely be detected within those Prussian blues. Only the faintest darkening of the skin under his telling the tale of his late nights.

Turning from the mirror once his Preventer's jacket was done up fully Heero made his way from the changing room and made the short trip up to the counsellor's office. In all, honestly Heero was not surprised what so ever by the assignment to visit her even though he was not scheduled to speak with her again until the end of the week.

Lady Une had informed him that pending Doctor Taylor's approval they would be putting him directly into the line of action and with a little more clearance most likely moving him into the special projects that they were currently trying desperately to recruit new candidates. It was not unexpected that she would try and push as many sessions as possible to get the approval they wanted, and Heero knew would she would grant shortly.

The hour went by quickly, Heero having made a point of keeping his reports as he had agreed to do at the beginning of his position here. In it he had been making sure to write down everything he had noticed about his observations in his life and the growing agitation that had begun to form from the things he was learning about that time in his life. The longest of his logs having been the one he had recently written where he had picked apart and analyzed everything he was feeling about the upcoming reunion of the five pilots and he had even gone so far as the include his uncertainty about what he was expecting.

He felt himself tapping his foot a little in agitation as she reached this particular report. His arms were crossing over his chest in a subconscious attempt to shield himself even as he rose to his feet, making the crossing to the window that was often his favorite place to stand. He could hear her pause a few times and make notes, and he could only assume that the female had reached his admission to his confusion about meeting Duo after so long, along with the newest information about what had happened to the braided pilot during the war.

"You feel...protective of Duo Maxwell?"

It took Heero several seconds to realize that the words were not a statement but instead a question. He blinked and then turned to meet her eyes as she stared at him from across the room. He could not fathom where she may have gotten that from with what he had given her. After all, he had not even seen the American in five years and had only conversed with him once over the phone.

The look that crossed over her face was a mix of a smirk and a grin as she watched him where he stood. Her eyes were scanning his face and clearly making some assessment of his reaction to her words. She turned her gaze downwards and began writing something on the pad of paper that was a constant in these sessions.

Stepping across the room, Heero felt the instinct to ask her what she was writing. Unlike the many times before he was a little unsure as to what exactly she was reacting to in his behaviour. The two of them stood in silence for what felt like minutes before at last she put her pen down. Motioning for Heero to sit down across from her. Which he did with a small bit of hesitation.

"You have been making amazing progress with your emotions Heero. I can see a definite difference since we first met. It is slow, and it will continue to be so, but I know that you can differentiate between basic emotions. I have also noticed that you without knowing it, have surrounded yourself with people that you deem have the aspects of the pilots that you like and respect. That is good. This has helped you in learning to interact with people.

"I have been asked for an update about your emotional stability should you be sent into the field. I will say that with what I have been privy to, I am confident that you will be able to handle yourself just fine."

The smile she wore was a faint thing. But she seemed pleased, with a smallest of grins pressing the corner of her lip upwards as she looked down at the paper she was now holding out for Heero to take. Heero, meeting DoctorTaylor's eyes in a moment of hesitation before reaching forward to accept the form.

Looking it over, Heero was even more surprised to see that the final recommendation of the doctor was clear as day upon the paper she had given him. In bold letters, the counsellor had written that Heero was, in fact, clear to be put into the field. She had remarked about his tremendous ability to adapt and learn to cope with situations as they arose and requested that he return once a month for a while for her to continue to watch over Heero's mindset.

Looking up from the paperwork, Heero met her eyes and nodded before hesitating a moment, before finally sitting down across from her once more. He had the strangest of sensations that were coursing through him, and he was working to diagnose what it was. It took Heero several minutes before he realized that he was, lamenting the end of his weekly counselling sessions?

"If I wished to continue to make an arrangement to speak with you should I need it, what paperwork would I have to fill out?"

Heero did not miss the slight quirk of her brow nor the flickering of something that passed over her eyes. The counsellor tilted her head a moment and then let the smirk that seemed to be fighting against her composure slip onto her face.

Without a word, she pulled out several papers and passed them to Heero and then sat back down her hands folded over her lap. They sat in silence for a time before she began to speak once more. She discussed the steps that he would need to take to set up a regular session with her as well as reassuring him that should he need to speak with her about something that may come up suddenly, Heero could still call her, and she would do what she could to be available to help him.

The entire situation left Heero feeling rather satisfied as he at long last rose to his feet and nodded back at her once before walking from the office. Heero did not hesitate in taking his newly signed paperwork straight to his supervisor who informed him that he would be passing it along to the higher ups as soon as possible. With this task accomplished, Heero was not surprised to find an email waiting for him by the time he returned from lunch.

The email itself was a detailed description of the new team he would be working with as of the next day. Included with it were the files for a mission they had already headed off on with the information that he would need to be ready to meet up with them the next day. With this information, Heero collected the few personal effects he had about his desk and said a goodbye to his desk mate.

All in all, the rest of his day and his early evening had gone by quite quickly. Reporting into Lady Une's office to let her know that he had received his new assignment he had made the journey home. Which was exactly where Heero was that very moment - lowering himself into his place upon his couch and leaning forward to switch on his laptop.

A bag was filled with the things he would need for the assignment he had been given. He could feel the faintest of thrumming inside of his chest. There was something both alarming and reassuring about the preparation for a mission. Heero was not sure if the time he had been reading his old log files had woken something inside of him. However, Heero could feel an easiness slipping over him as his mind ran through the checklists of what he had and what he had yet to pack for the trip, so much like he had done so many times during the war before a mission.

Relaxing in the dim light of his computer screen, he hesitated as he glanced at the clock. There was still an hour before he should turn in for the evening. Thinking about this and looking at the properties of the file Heero felt safe in determining that he should be able to complete this log before then. With this settled, Heero double clicked on the icon to open the next file.

* * *

July 25th - AC 195

As I expected the time here in the small little three bedroom shack that has become our most current safe house has been disturbing. In the early hours of the first night, a commotion began from the direction of Wufei's rooms. The yelling and cursing that was coming from there were violent in nature and frequently switched from English to Chinese and back again.

I did not bother to go and see what was the cause of the problem. The words "you buffoon" were enough to inform me of all I needed to know in regards to the situation. Clearly Maxwell had managed to aggravate the Chinese pilot...something that leaves me by no means surprised.

There was a while in which the yelling was accompanied by the sounds of things smashing so I can only assume that Wufei was attempting to cause the braided fool bodily harm. This could be either by attempting to throttle physically the American or by throwing something at him. This, however, did not last long as the voices of the other two pilots soon joined the fray. After this occurred things did not continue for much longer.

The silence that followed the previous commotion was all the louder as it spoke volumes to the tension that still filled the safe house. When I woke up the next morning and made my way to the safe house's barely there kitchenette, Maxwell was lying upon the couch sporting a black eye to match the healing one that he had received by the hands of the OZ interrogators. Despite this, he seemed at peace or at the very least dead to the world as I passed by him.

The day since then has been one that has both bothered and annoyed me. The interactions between Maxwell and Wufei have been all the more violent for the altercation that passed between them in the night. For which Wufei places all blame upon the braided baka for waking him up by shouting. Personally I can understand where Wufei is coming from when he describes being woken by Maxwell in the middle of the night...although there is no reasoning behind why such an action would cause violence of that level.

As things progressed, however, I had no choice but to relent to allowing Maxwell to move his things into my room. After all, as Trowa explained to me earlier, someone who is hurt cannot fully recover without proper sleep, and Maxwell would not be able to rest while living on the couch. Despite the soundness of his sleep, earlier this morning could dispute this fact I will also assume that the late night activities, as well as the long hours spent piloting Deathscythe to be here, may have attributed much of his exhaustion that allowed him to sleep so soundly.

Time will tell if I will come to regret this decision to do this at the request of the banged male as Trowa had been rather insistent for once that Duo is allowed to stay with me. Something he has never done before so I will indulge Trowa this one thing - after all, if worse comes to worse I can simply throw him out of the room once more.

This seems to have occurred to Maxwell as well since he has been oddly silent since he settled in. He has taken the second bed that occupies the room and yet remained silent for the most part...however, in light of the events that happened later in the day perhaps this was rather to do with those events than any insights the braided fool may have had running through his brain.

The events I am speaking of happened this morning. In the early morning, I woke as usual to the smell of something that Quatre was cooking. The blonde often cooks meals for the five of us when we are all together. I cannot understand the Arabian's desire to see all of us seated at a table together enjoying a meal. Perhaps this stems from the fact that he was raised in a large family, and this was something that he is used to seeing or maybe it is the fact that he wishes to instil a semblance of connection between all of us. Whatever the case I have since become accustomed to this familiar wake-up call, despite the fact I had in all honesty been awake for several hours at that point.

During the night just before dawn Maxwell had awoken me through the sounds of his thrashing upon his bed. I lay in the room listening in silence as he fought violently against his sheets and swore softly at some unseen enemy. Those swear words and cussing soon faded to grunts of what I can only assume was some perceived pain? At very least that was what it seemed like to me. In the midst of these grunts and whimpers, he woke with a shout.

Without opening my eyes, I could tell in the silence of the room that he was struggling to settle his breathing. The shuddering sounds of his gasping for air were muffled and distorted, leading me to believe he had most likely pressed a pillow to his face to quiet himself. Time lapsed, and eventually his breathing evened out and the strange, strangled sounds that he was making subsided. After a while more I could hear him rise from his bed and make his way out of the bedroom. He did not return to the room for several hours.

The strong scent of vanilla that followed him re-entering the room gave testimony to the fact that during the time while Maxwell had been gone had been used to take a shower as I had often associated that smell with the shampoo he insisted on using on his extremely overly long hair. The braided fool for once seemed to consider someone other than himself, however, as he seemed to be attempting to be as silent as possible as he returned and then left again quite quickly.

So by the time I decided to make my way to the kitchenette to find out what Quatre had made for breakfast this morning I had been awake for almost four hours. This did not concern me seeing as how I can function for days on end without sleep, so fewer hours was nothing bothersome. I was, however, surprised to find that while the other three were sitting at the makeshift table eating already the braided baka was not present.

"Coffee's brewing."

This was all Wufei had to say to me when I made my presence known, and so I in turn decided to ignore Wufei as I did not bother to acknowledge what the Chinese pilot said. Instead, I simply allowed Quatre to put a plate of food together for me for when I returned while I side stepped them and made my way to where I would be able to get myself a cup of coffee. I wished to indulge in this one unhealthy substance that I had discovered early on in my association with these other pilots, and I enjoyed it.

As I reached my destination, however, I spotted the pilot that had been missing previously. The braided pilot had his back to me, and he appeared lost in thought. His cup filled with coffee and the fact that the cream was out and open as well as the spoon still protruding from the sugar dish would state that he had finished making himself a cup. As I watched him, Maxwell simply stood where he was as though rooted to the spot as he stared downwards into his coffee cup.

I believe I said something slight to catch the baka's attention, but he did not seem to notice me. I know that I spoke again in a further attempt to get Maxwell to acknowledge me and move to no avail. Studying him, I could see a faint trembling had taken hold of the American's limbs as he stood rooted to the spot.

The tremors travelled from one end of Maxwell to the other. Travelling up his back and causing his shoulders to quake faintly. The whole thing reminded me faintly of the beginnings of Maxwell's night terrors...as I have begun to call his episodes. He often grows deathly still in his, sleep and the sounds follow the tremors that begin in his body.

Despite my best instincts to simply leave the idiot and return for my coffee later I, for some odd reason, felt inclined to reach out and touch the other's shoulder. The act itself is something I have seen Trowa do to Quatre at times, the blonde often jumping when he is caught lost in thought and apologizing. I am not entirely sure if I was expecting the same with Maxwell...however, I was not expecting what followed my touching the other's shoulder.

In the time, it took my fingers to brush against Maxwell's narrow shoulder the other had grown rigid and spun upon me. The only warning I had about the coming onslaught being the faintest shift in his arm that quickly followed with the burning scalding of hot coffee that met my face first. This was the result of the coffee cup now trapped between his hand and mine.

The coffee, though stinging to have suddenly thrown in my face, was not the initial danger that had presented itself. It had simply been the aftermath of the fact that Maxwell had spun upon me, swinging his coffee mug straight for my head. It is probably only my sharper instincts and speed that stopped the action in time. For a moment I stood as I was, my fingers curled around the mug and studied Maxwell.

The braided fool was standing before me but only in body. Looking into those eyes of his was like staring into a blank slate coloured with fear and anger. Where ever Maxwell's mind was it was not here at this moment but perhaps from the rage I could see inside of him back with his captors in the Oz base? The moment I had to make these observations were cut short however as I saw Maxwell's brow furrow as somewhere in his panicked state he realized his original attack had been thwarted, and he adjusted to follow through with another.

There was the sound of something cracking and breaking even as I felt the pressure countering my grip upon the mug fall away suddenly, leaving me to stumble forward faintly in surprise. The braided pilot's hand was flying once more for my face, this time, however, the jagged handle, newly broken from the mug being used as his weapon.

I know that it was only my training as a soldier that saved me from the other then. I realized the mistake of assuming that his first attack was the extent of the danger. Even as I caught my balance, I managed to throw myself backwards into the counter behind me. Not entirely surprised when Maxwell pressed his advantage, brandishing the sharp ceramic as easily as he would have his switch knife. Feeling the counter against my lower back, I leaned over the porcelain of the countertop a moment to avoid yet another swing before snapping my left hand out to catch the wrist of Maxwell's right firmly.

In all the incident only took a matter of a few seconds, so I was not surprised at all by the sudden commotion of the others rushing to respond to the fact that we were in the middle of an altercation. Quatre and Trowa rushed into the cramped space of the kitchenette. The blonde pilot hesitated a moment before grabbing Duo's shoulders to pull the slightly skinnier pilot around to meet his eyes and call his name softly. While Trowa held a towel out for me to use to dry my hair even as his sharp eyes were studying my face to see the extent of my wounding.

It took several minutes until Maxwell seemed to snap out of whatever state had driven him to attack me, however, when he did he gasped faintly and spluttered madly to apologise. The most prominent of emotions I can understand was his embarrassment as I observed the tinge of pink that covered his face as he reached to help dry me off and see if I had been burned under the soaked shirt I was now wearing. I had to threaten to kill him to make Maxwell shut up and leave me be as I placed both cup and handle down upon the counter to strip my shirt off over my head and allowed for Quatre to check over me.

Throughout the entire process, I could feel Maxwell watching me. When at last I was given a clean bill of health I turned and saw Maxwell watching me with the oddest of expressions upon his face. A mixture of pain and ...something else, regret? Or perhaps remorse? I cannot be sure and the moment did not last long for as I caught his gaze, his eyes dropped looking instead to the now broken mug he held in his hands.

He studied the ceramic for a while before at last seeming to come to a decision as he turned to put both on the top of the garbage to go out later. With one last apology Maxwell fled the room and disappeared off somewhere into the safe house. When the music began blasting in the garage I could feel safe in assuming that he had gone off to train.

The entire situation was one that I easily brushed off, although the look inside of Maxwell's eyes stuck with me even as I went to our room and got changed. The look of sheer terror filled with so many other emotions...anger I could understand...pain...those were easy...but there were others...the look from afterwards when he was upset over having attacked me was somewhat similar...could it be labelled as… "shame".

At that point, I found a slight uncomfortable sensation I have never encountered before in my chest, so I chose to drop that train of thought. Opting to instead return to the kitchen and eat the breakfast I had never gotten around to eating before the incident with Maxwell had occurred.

What I saw when I walked back into the living spacer made me still and watch in silence for a few moments. Standing near the window when I arrived was Quatre, the blonde having his back mostly to me. The reflexion in the mirror, however, was enough to show me the upset expression Quatre wore. Quatre's eyes were sad, and he looked somewhat like he had been or was on the verge of crying.

Before I had done more than notice this fact, Trowa obscured a larger portion of the blonde from my view as he leaned over the smaller male in that embrace I have often heard called a hug. Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre for a long moment, and I could hear the faintest of sounds as Trowa murmured in Quatre's ear. Whatever he said I could not hear, however, the blonde turned in his arms and said something back just as softly before leaning in.

The act of kissing is not something I am schooled in. Never have I had any need to study the art of anything sexual in nature or even physical in more than fighting and coercion. What little I do know of these things are entirely limited to the basics of them about when a male and a female are either sexually attracted to one another or have deemed the other worthy of exchanging DNA in attempts to procreate an offspring. Never in the limited teachings I received had I ever heard anything of these things occurring between two males.

Despite this, however, the two before me were quite obviously exchanging a moment of physical comfort, and they appeared to be quite enjoying it. The way the two of them pressed against one another, Quatre seeming to cling to Trowa while the usually silent pilot cradled him was one I will most likely never understand or forget. The moment they shared broke apart suddenly as Quatre gasped as he opened his eyes to see me watching them. The blonde jumped away from Trowa his eyes wide as he met my gaze.

The two stared at me and then at one another before putting distance between each other. They separated themselves from each other's arms as if they could take back the moment I had walked in on through this act of denial. Whatever they hoped to do, however, I was filled with far more questions then I even now know how to articulate fully.

"Heero...umm."

Quatre attempted to say something to me at that point but lapsed into silence once again when I met his gaze. His cheeks flushing that colour that would suggest he was embarrassed by the fact that I had seen what had transpired between him and Trowa.

I watched the two of them for a few more seconds before allowing myself to cross the room to the by now abandoned table. I do not know where Wufei was but he was not present in the room so I simply lowered myself into my seat and began to eat my breakfast. Even as I was devouring my food, surprisingly hungry for a change, I could feel the two of them watching me.

I simply ignored them and allowed them to watch me while I accomplished my task. However, as I was finished again I allowed myself to partake in some of the things I was analysing in my head. I could see Quatre's face twist with embarrassment as I asked him why they were kissing, what about it was so comforting.

Trowa was the one that chose to answer me, and he seemed to almost shelter Quatre with his body as he spoke with me. Which I allowed since I was getting my questions answered after all. The conversation was long and quite informative for me. Trowa was doing all of the talking as I asked about why people would become engaged in a physical relationship at such a dangerous situation as being a part of a war. The explanation he gave was satisfactory, and I chose to let it lapse into silence after a while as I noticed that Quatre was not the only one out of the two that seemed to be uncomfortable.

The faintest tinges of pink were firmly in place upon Trowa's cheeks, and the usually silent pilot seemed to be trying to slowly steer Quatre from the room now that I seemed satisfied. Unopposed to their leaving, after all, I had my answers, and they both seemed to wish for the conversation to end. However, there was one last thing I needed to have answered. Something I had read previously in an attempt to understand what was going on with Maxwell coming to mind, I had simply pushed it aside since the situation could not apply to my male comrade.

"If two males can kiss - can they also engage in the act of sexual gratification?"

Trowa grew an odd shade of crimson at this question and he seemed to splutter faintly as he processed my question. It took a while before at last he answered me.

"Yes, Heero. Two males can engage in sex just as a man and a woman can."

This information was surprising to me. From what I knew of the female body from my study of the human body, they possessed a part of the body that men did not. The reason for males engaging in sexual intercourse with a woman came from human's urges to reproduce. This was why women were born with wombs to allow for the growth of infants and why they had the ability to give birth. So how without the necessary parts did a man and a man have sex?

When I asked Trowa this same question he grew an odd combination of pale and red. I got the distinct feeling that he wished to be somewhere else and he sent Quatre from the room, the blonde all to happy to flee the living room. Despite obviously not wishing to speak on the matter, with Quatre now gone, Trowa explained the basics of the ways males can have sex with one another. This new information, however, only made that previously dismissed article stand out in my brain more.

"So if males can kiss one another and have sex with one another - can males rape each other?"

The look of rage and anger that passed over Trowa's face was answer enough before he had even bothered to nod. With this I am finally able to explain the knot that has been forming in my stomach as I witness Maxwell's slow recovery. Though his body is healing quickly, his personality and mental state are still obviously damaged.

I am unsure but perhaps it was because of this sensation in my stomach that I stopped by the garbage after Trowa left. I had been about to scrap the leftovers on my plate off into the garbage when I caught sight of the mug still sitting there on top of the pile. The mug itself was a simple thing. Black in colour with silver lettering spelling out "this day will never be repeated".

I could vaguely remember Maxwell finding this mug while he dragged me off to get groceries in one of the first few safe houses we had stayed in together. That was back when it had been only him myself and Quatre in the safe house. The image of the braided fool grinning as he saw the message seemed to rise to the surface. He had babbled something about that being so true. Every moment was different and that he could keep hoping that the next moment would be better someday.

Without really thinking about it I found myself holding the ceramic mug in my hands as I remembered that day. The smile on the idiot's face was something I had been baffled by. How could someone be so amused and pleased with something as simple as this? I twisted the cup around to study it and found only the simple, plain exterior and interior of the cup that had always been there, except for the ragged damage done where the handle had been broken off.

It was a simple task to find the handle and only about forty minutes to glue the two pieces together and touch up the damaged places with some pain I found. When I finished, I was pleased that the damage was all but invisible except if you knew where it had been. Of course, the second I realized that I was happy about this trivial accomplishment I was and am to this very moment confused about this. It is as perplexing as how attached Maxwell seemed to be of this particular cup.

I will say though, that as I have been writing this log Maxwell came out of the garage and I can express a particularly large amount of satisfaction at the look he just sent me...for some reason the smile upon his face when he spotted that familiar cup sitting where he usually leaves it...just feels...nice.

Hmmm how odd. I will have to monitor these strange sensations and keep note of them if they continue.

01


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to everyone! I have to apologize for the delay in the posting of this chapter. I have been meaning to get around to editing it several times over the last month but with Christmas coming I found it hard to since I tend to make all of my presents. I also found my heart tied to a new project for the Shadowhunters series created and given to the loving fans by Cassandra Clare so I will be working to balance the posting of this and of that series as well.

April 10th After Colony 201

The weeks since I started my first mission have been filled with so many familiar things that I have finally come to understand the saying "coming home." Until the last few weeks I had never known what was so special about returning to the place that one recharged oneself and rested their belongings. After all, during the war and even before that I had never had one place that I stayed in for very long. However, stepping back into the line of danger, even as remote a trouble as any mission brings, has to be the exact personification of this cliché.

In this time, I have quickly become reacquainted with the art of moving with a strategy in mind, and a plan for every motion. After all, it was something deeply ingrained in my personality even before the war. The team I have been assigned to work with for now is a small but reasonably efficient one. Marquise, a tall male with a shocking arrangement of stark white hair and tanned skin, is our team leader. From what I've witnessed so far, he has proven to be a good leader.

Marquise welcomed me into their safe house on the morning of my arrival, and he took plenty of time to make sure that his newest agent was up to speed. Marquise even seemed pleased with how well versed I was in the situation. The fact seemed to make things easier for having a new member brought in. He explained how the team had worked together for just under a year, expressing the consensus of concern from the group when Lady Une had explained that they would be receiving a new member. However, with Marquise's assessment over with, he then proceeded to introduce me to the others.

The next most notable would have to be Carla, a petite female with a wiry form and a naturally fiery temperament. I was introduced to her while she and another of the team, Jake - I would later find out was his name - were sparring. Despite her size disadvantage, Carla took the taller blonde haired male down in a few quick moves that would have made even Wufei jealous. The small female had fire red hair that matched her personality well. As we watched Marquise explained to me, she was the team's forward agent and that I would be working closely with her in any instances when we needed to infiltrate. Of course, with this information, I made a mental note to get to know her fighting style and movement tells for future reference.

Jake turned from where he had come up from the floor beneath our teammate. He had a stern scowl on his face, and the only thing he had to say to the "newcomer" was that if I "fucked up his gear" he would "kick my ass." This threat, of course, made a thrill of amusement go through me as I wondered if this male had any idea of the dozen ways I could kill him with my bare hands. Or, even less likely, that I was trained to successfully use every single method. Watching him go as Marquise explained to me that Jake was our group's tech jockey I reassessed my earlier thought process. Not kill then, a team needed the person that was able to maintain their gear and come up with new tools. I would simply have to maim him then rather than ending his life if he tried to fight would be just as satisfying.

The tour continued, and I was introduced to a few others that I honestly did not find particularly remarkable in talent or interesting enough to remember much more than their names. I did, however, find a mild curiosity to the twins that Marquise introduced me to. The group's trade hackers it would seem, the taller of the two though only by a few inches, also seemed to double as their undercover agent. The one responsible for going into the seedy parts of the city and rooting out the information they needed. Though to be honest as I have watched the others of our group over the last few weeks I have noticed that their heights seem to change between the two, and so I have begun to suspect that they purposely use insoles to change their height to confuse our comrades.

The structure of this life has eased much of my confusion over the things I have learned from my past. Focusing entirely on the raids and things that I have participated in has done much to help me burn off the extra energy that sometimes builds up in me when I think about the wedding that I will be attending right after the successful completion of this mission tomorrow. The whole thing will end up being a week away from work, however, from the duration of this mission Marquise, has informed me that we will be given a couple of weeks off to recover and reconnect with loved ones.

From what I have been able to find this appears to be the standard structure of this team's missions. The longest they have spent undercover on a job having been, according to the twins, around four months. The team had then had an entire month off to recover from the hardships of living like this. Things that are drastic in nature sometimes do pull the team back into the field sooner than scheduled. However, Carla has told me that this is rare. They often leave the truly critical situations to their expert teams.

This information, of course, drew my interest as it was these special teams that Wufei had been telling me about all that time ago that had intrigued my interest in the first place. The elite teams had suffered many casualties in a raid, and they had been hoping to send me to that team with some practical experience and assessment. I chose to keep this to myself, however; from the looks I have seen on the twin's faces now, and then I suspect they may have hacked the Preventer's database to gather Intel on me. Something I have of course done with all of them in turn.

Tomorrow's assignment will be a direct infiltration, requiring probably only a handful of our team to surround our quarry while they begin a trade with Dray. The younger twin who I am pretty sure decided to switch places with his brother for this, having infiltrated the gang that would be supplying him with the weapons. The mercenaries we are targeting know him only as a dealer of artillery in a place that would otherwise have an almost complete ban on weapons.

Carla and I will both be leading a small handful of our team in with us, and when the exchange is in full swing, we are to enter into the warehouse and arrest all members inside. Of course, including Dray up until he can be separated from the buyers and his contacts. The story will later be that Dray had gotten himself an amazing lawyer who has never failed to get him off all charges, and he was released from custody and allowed to leave the colony.

Seeing that a full night's sleep is essential to this mission's success, I will take my teammate's examples in turning in for the night.

Heero Yuy

With a faint sigh of exhaustion, Heero pulled his gaze away from his computer for the first time in almost a solid hour. Before he had taken the time to write this quick log about the time he had spent here in the colony Heero had been filing reports and even worse, working on the speech he was expected to deliver in less than six days. In fact, it had been easier to write his innermost thoughts than to finish the speech. The file was sitting half written with Heero feeling no more inspired to complete it now than he had when he had abandoned it previously.

Reaching for the hot coffee to his right Heero took a quick swig of the dark liquid and found a slight sigh slip from him at the taste. The one thing he did not miss at all from this life was the bone tired feeling he would sometimes suffer. It wasn't so much that he wasn't sleeping enough more that the job was demanding both physically and mentally in a way that Heero had not quite experienced since the war. There was the usual sense of familiarity at the situation, and something about that eased him considerably.

Standing up Heero ran his fingers gently over the keyboard of his laptop with what he could only a labeled as a sense of longing. He had been very strict with himself these last few weeks in which he had not allowed himself to read the log files that often left him to distraction. The burning curiosity in him had been increasing with every log he had written about his experiences and the missions he had undergone in the recent weeks. However, Heero had finally promised himself that upon completing this mission he would take the time to read the remaining files on his way to the wedding. He wanted very much to have read everything before he saw the others. Wanted to know the reasoning behind the lies and what had happened all those years ago that had robbed him of his memories of an entire three months that he had quite obviously been conscious of at the time.

Turning from his computer as he closed the laptop Heero moved over to the sink to wash out his cup, and he momentarily wished for the cup that he had left for safe keeping back in his apartment. For some reason, the discovery that this mug had meant something to Duo and had apparently meant something small to him at some point drew a vague longing for the familiar item. The curiosity in him as to why Quatre had given him the cup was one of the many things that he would have to ask the other pilots. That is if the answer is not provided in the log files that were to come.

With a shake of his head, Heero managed to pull himself from these wayward thoughts as he moved to turn off the lights and head through the safe house in silence. He had long ago memorized the floor plan of the entire place, which made instances like this all too easy to navigate. Stepping past the first three doors, he stopped at the last door before his own. The silence he heard on the other side of it surprised him, only for the faintest of sounds of the door clicking slightly against the lock on it followed quickly by the roaring snores of the twins.

Hearing this Heero felt himself shake his head with a faint smirk as he continued past them. He had learned early on that the twins insisted on sleeping in the same room and, not only because of their bond but also because the other members all complained about their horrendous snores. The fact that the other twin never seemed to notice their brother's sleeping habits while they slept in the same room had been the deciding factor in their permanent sleeping arrangements. Heero couldn't help a pang of sympathy for the others having had to learn this through trial and error previously. After all, Duo, while obviously not as bad as these two were, had snored quite loudly when he was truly exhausted.

Heero could hear his heart beating in his ears as he stopped only long enough to signaled for the team to fan out around the left side of the warehouse. Keeping his gun level and at his side, the safety still on Heero kept Carla in his line of sight while they waited for the signal. The mission had so far gone to plan as he and the others waited for the change of money and weapons.

Heero's eyes were tracking the others of their team as they got into position, waiting as they all did with baited breath as they finally got what they wanted. The confirmation of purchasing illegal weapons with the obvious intent to cause harm. The moment the money left their hands Heero heard Carla's voice break out over the warehouse as she lunged out from behind the nearest set of boxes. Heero reacted instinctively, darting over the boxes that were his shelter as he heard gunfire.

Seeing out of the corner of his eye as Carla went down under the shot to her shoulder Heero's finger instantly flipped the safety off as he leveled his gun on the nearest merc with a weapon. Shooting straight Heero was satisfied as the man went down with a shout of pain while clutching at his leg as blood bubbled to the surface.

The rest of the fight went by in a blur that barely registered in Heero's conscious mind as he moved to tackle the obvious ring leader. The man was easy to spot as his subordinates were attempting to usher him out the back. Moving as silently as he ever had in the war Heero closed the distance between them and with a shout he lunged for the man, effectively taking his men by surprise. Bringing the leader down under him, Heero felt a thrill of satisfaction as he fastened the cuffs on the slightly bulkier male.

Leaving the man in the care of one of the others Heero turned then to assess the situation and was pleased when he saw Carla among the agents cuffing the others of the mercenaries. Despite the somewhat pained expression and the sheet white colour of her complexion the red haired woman seemed otherwise fine despite her earlier wounding. That was one thing Heero respected about the woman, more than her strong temperament, Carla was tough as nails. She almost reminded Heero of Rashid in her determination and drive.

Turning from the woman, Heero grabbed onto the back off Dray's scruff as he was struggling viciously in the hands of the others. Swearing and cussing at them in the lilting accent that was customary in this region Heero couldn't help but to commend the twins on their commitment to their undercover work. The other didn't stop fighting him until he'd gotten him into the back of one of the trucks to get him out of there. As soon as the others were all loaded and Heero could see Carla gave the signal that meant Heero could climb into the otherwise empty truck and sat himself down across from Dray as he banged his fist on the wall to indicate that the driver starts up the van.

"Your brother isn't going to like if that cut on your face scars."

Heero smirked as the other jerked a bit hearing him. The slightly younger male's eyes turning up from where he had been watching as Heero un-cuffed him. For a moment, his eyes were surprised before settling into a cold gaze as he shrugged and sat back.

"Dray's always complaining that we look too much alike anyway," Dray said, and his voice had abandoned the fake accent that was native to this colony as he met Heero's smirk with one of his own.

Heero raised a brow at the act, momentarily reassessing the other to see if he had not been mistaken about this having in fact been the brother in question. However, after the brief lapse in certainty, he shrugged it off. He knew for a fact that this was Dray. The other's act notwithstanding Heero leaned back just as lazily and though the tension had not left his body entirely, he could feel some of the adrenaline burning off of him as he watched the other. Feeling his lips quirk once more as the other seemed to touch the cut across his jaw absentmindedly, Heero doubted the other even realized he was doing it.

The trip after that was uneventful as Heero waited for their arrival at the arranged detainment center that they had already informed of their incoming criminals. Heero got up to lead the other out as they were the first to arrive. Escorting Dray into a private room to be returned to his brother as well as given his clothing back to wear.

Heero reported to Marquise as was his duty as the first to return, telling the white haired male all the details he had noted even while he had focused solely on the task at hand of securing the mercenary's leader. The mission in total had been a success save for Carla's injury, Marquise informing Heero of the woman's admittance to the local hospital to extract the bullet from her shoulder. The other's worried expression was one that Heero understood with a quick certainty. The fact that the bullet had pierced the flesh at all through Carla's protective vest was concerning to say the least.

"Good Job, Yuy."

Marquise' lopsided smile was warm as he clasped Heero's shoulder. This was an act of companionship that Heero had learned the other preferred and had had to train himself not to flinch away from. A feat that had taken Heero a good while to accomplish.

"Agent Chang is here to pick you up. He grabbed your things from the house before coming here to meet you," Marquise confided as he pointed in the direction Heero would find the Chinese ex-pilot.

Nodding his thanks, Heero felt a slight tightness in his stomach at the thought of having to face Wufei so soon brought up. Heero had planned for a quiet trip from the colony to the earth sphere to relax and unwind from the journey as well as making a plan for seeing the others. Drawing himself together Heero turned to head into the small office, opening the door and stepping inside and he tensed as soon as he spotted the Chinese pilot.

Wufei was dressed as casually as Heero had ever seen him, a pair of pressed pants and a turtle neck to counter the chill of this colony's winter cycle. His black hair was held back in its usual ponytail and visible as the other ex-pilot currently had his back to Heero. Wufei appeared to be studying the painting on the wall directly across from the door and did not seem to have even heard the door open yet. Taking the time to look around the room Heero was, at least, grateful that the room was otherwise empty of other occupants, even as he spotted his things packed up neatly on the desk between them. Heero had packed everything up in preparation to have to go straight from the colony on the two-day flight back to the Earth, so he had no concern that Wufei had missed anything.

"Ah Heero, I thought I heard your team coming back," Wufei said, speaking before he had even fully turned to face him.

Heero could see the other's face soften in the way that Heero had seen the black haired male look sometimes. Often when looking at Sally or others, he had worked with for a long time. Heero could also remember seeing the look on the other's face when he greeted Trowa or Quatre after a long time apart. Somewhere in his mind, Heero registered that the look must be akin to a friendly happiness to see him. The moment passed, and his features settled back into their usual calm demeanor as he unfolded his arms from across his chest.

"I hear good things about your progress and the team's reports of the mission were impressive." Heero had felt a momentarily swell of something akin to pride before he brushed the sensation aside as Wufei continued. "Keep this up Yuy and you'll be transferred to the expert teams as soon as Une clears it with the team.'

Heero noted somewhat half-heartedly that Wufei's tone held a light tone of something to his words and for a short minute Heero could almost hear the words that hung unspoken between them at that statement. Wufei clearly meant without saying that there was no way that there would be any reason for why Heero would not be accepted into the team that had been his original destination. Heero was pleased with this and he both looked forward to the new assignment while simultaneously feeling a pang of what he could only describe as regret.

In the short time that he had worked with this team, he had slowly felt himself finding attachments to the members of the group he had been assigned to. Each of them had had their strengths, and the weaknesses they presented were easily balanced by the others. As was the case with all teams Heero had slowly learned after the war, and acknowledged consciously a few years ago when he had been building his security team to protect Relena.

The thought of the woman, however, drew Heero's thoughts back to the others of his past that he held in high esteem including but not limited to the black haired male before him. This also brought the unresolved feelings that had been lying dormant in his chest for the last few weeks that had been pushed aside for the sake of the mission. Wufei seemed to be completely oblivious to the war of emotions that Heero was having a hard time reanalyzing and understanding after such a prolonged period of ignoring them.

Blinking as he caught the look Wufei was sending him Heero shut off the internal voices as he focused himself outwardly on paying attention the male before him. Wufei had taken a few steps towards him and had apparently been speaking. Having received no indication that Heero had in fact heard anything he'd been saying however Wufei had stopped where he was, halfway towards him with his hand outstretched to gather a bag he had not noticed leaning against the desk. Probably Wufei's personal effects that he would need for the duration of the wedding.

"You with me Yuy?"

Heero nodded his head sharply as he heard Wufei's voice, noting with mild annoyance at the amusement in the black haired ex- pilot's voice, his dark eyes likewise shining with the underlying emotion.

"Yeah, I'm with you Chang," Heero grunted as he stepped past him to grab his things, having already removed the bulletproof vest he had been wearing.

Setting his bag over one shoulder and grabbing the laptop case he turned to follow the other out as Wufei led him from the detainment center to a car he had apparently called to pick him up while he was on the colony.

The silence in the car was one Heero was grateful for as it meant he did not have to speak in response to the other. Wufei clearly was giving him his space to unwind after the mission he had just completed. At one point the black haired agent did take a moment to express his condolences about Carla being shot, along with a brief statement that the Preventers would be looking into the rounds they used since they were concerned about the fact they had shot her through her vest. Heero was again glad that the other just accepted a grunt of acknowledgment and lapsed back into silence to give Heero his peace.

The afternoon progressed in that fashion going forward. The two of them made their way to the shuttle port and waited for the next shuttle back to Earth in a relative silence. Sometimes speaking and other times just focusing on their things. For which Heero was glad. It gave him the time to write up the log for the mission and finish the reports he needed before going on leave for the wedding. When they were at last settled into the shuttle Heero was pleasantly surprised to find out that there was no one sitting beside him or Wufei across the way from him. The Chinese pilot having confided in him that he'd known how Heero liked his space after missions so he had had the Preventer's purchase four tickets so that he could travel comfortably.

This news was welcome and meant that as he settled in and booted up his laptop once more, Heero had nothing to concern himself with as he pulled up the next log file. It took him only a moment to find the last one he had read weeks before that had told him just how severely Duo had been damaged and where he had discovered that his favorite cup was actually, in fact, Duo's from the war. That the damages he had noticed before were, in fact, explained right there in his log in black and white and the, even more, the surprising knowledge that it and been him that fixed it for the sake of Duo's comfort or happiness.

* * *

July 31st - AC 195

In the six days since my last log I have been monitoring Maxwell's recovery as well as the interactions between him and the other pilots. I have noticed that the tension that I noted earlier has not eased at all, in fact, it seems to be growing worse between the other pilots and Maxwell - this appears to be increasing with the days. I have witnessed this in several different ways, including but not limited to the fact that the long-haired American has taken to staying close to me and almost never talks to the others unless he has to.

Much to my surprise and somewhat satisfaction as horrible as I would have usually thought having the almost entirely undivided attention of Deathscythe's pilot would be, I have discovered he can, in fact, be somewhat manageable. At times, Maxwell can even go a few hours without blathering around like the idiot I have come to know him as. Only reading or working on cleaning his guns on his bed, I have had the time actually to watch Maxwell, and I am beginning to see part of him I never really thought existed.

The braided American clearly enjoys reading, a similarity that I had never expected to arise. After all, it takes time and silence to read and although our tastes in materials are very different. I see no point to reading the fantasy and fictional drivel he seems to enjoy pouring over though Maxwell does seem to enjoy it immensely. The first thing he said upon my noticing that he was so silent the first day I caught him reading was that in L2 street kids never learned to read. It wasn't something that was needed to live on the streets, other than to learn the symbols that tell if something is poisonous, explosive or the like. Reading was a commodity that they simply didn't have time for where he grew up.

Thinking back on it I can't remember ever seeing that look upon the braided baka's face before. As he sat cross-legged on his bed with the book half open on his thighs his eyes trained on the written words. It was the first time since his capture that I have seen him able to sit comfortably like that. Maxwell had surprised me as he'd just started talking like that. I will admit this since it had already been such a shock in the first place that I had nothing to say while I watched him. The look that crossed his face then as he ran a finger over the cover of the book in his lap was one I'm still not entirely sure how to fully understand. There was a darkness to that expression as well as sadness. A deep sadness that just seemed to cover his entire face for a moment.

"It was Solo that taught me. He learned from the church, you know. He said that just because we're street urchins doesn't mean we have to be illiterate."

The soft tone of his voice would have been hard to hear if the room had not already been so silent that I could have heard a pin drop. The tinge of pain in his words were clearly distinct and for a brief moment, I caught myself wondering who this Solo was. Also from the look that crossed his face in a flash to quickly to decipher, I could not help but to assume that whoever this person had been in Maxwell's life, he was gone now.

Another thing that I have found surprising I discovered yesterday when I finally felt strong enough to begin a light workout regime and self-appointed training. I had been heading to the garage when I heard the sound of the music I always attribute to Maxwell's training sessions. Feeling very much like a wall of pure sound hit me the moment I stepped into the garage was a rather unpleasant sensation, and I wondered then and still do about how anyone could work in such an environment.

These thoughts, however, were brushed aside when I spotted the other. Despite the damage that Maxwell had suffered physically, he has been healing well, and his moves were as deadly as they had ever been. I have also learned from the two times that they have been turned on me directly in the last few weeks that they can, in fact, be pretty formidable. I stayed where I was watching the long-haired pilot as he flipped and spun around in a volley of strikes that was clearly aimed at a large group of people. Maxwell was clearly envisioning a wide scaled fight amongst many opponents attacking him all at once.

The truly surprising thing about this entire situation was the amount of something I have slowly been feeling towards the other. I am not entirely sure about what it is and have briefly pondered about it even asking Trowa. The banged pilot, having overcome whatever embarrassment my earlier inquiries about sex and male relations, had been surprised when I asked him and when I described to him the sensation. He has explained that a mutual respect is usually required between soldiers for a team to form and work well. The sensation I've been feeling is apparently the beginnings of this respect.

This is something I would never have attributed to the braided idiot. However, as I stood there watching Maxwell move, I felt a strong appreciation for the other's skills. From watching him there, I could easily picture myself standing in a fight with him and feeling confident that he had my back. With this alarming and unusual thought, I was left standing in silent observation of the other for a long time until at last he seemed to pause. As I stood there watching him I felt a fresh wave of that inexplicable anger wash over me as Maxwell pulled his sweat-soaked shirt off, and the still healing bruises were revealed, the ones on his hips peeking out from under his pants waistband.

I'm not sure why but seeing the damage made me move forward without a conscious thought to do so. Stepping forward I reached forward to touch one of the bruises ever so slightly, I'm sure I was only attempting to collect information about Duo's reaction - why else would I do something like this after having previously been attacked by the banged pilot?

I was not entirely surprised as Maxwell reacted instantly as he spun. His hair whipping me across the face at the sudden movement dazed me even as his fist came flying at my face a moment later. This surprise was expected and so easily captured in my hand. It was here, staring Maxwell down that I got to see yet another instance in which the damages done to him in OZ's hands. His violet eyes were dark at that moment; fear pure uncontrollable terror was visible warring with rage. This moment passed though as he recognized me almost as soon as he had spun, and instantly the tension in his arm fell slack, and Duo stepped back to give me one of those grins he uses to unarm a tense situation.

"Hee-chan sorry 'bout that you should know better than to sneak up on another pilot," he said, and the joking tones of his voice along with the smile he put on his face didn't match up to the look in the braided pilot's face.

Now that I think back on my many interactions with the baka I am beginning to notice a pattern. Maxwell's wall is very different than my own; however, I'm beginning actually to see it I believe. He uses his smile and his grin much like I use my death glares and scowls...It is something he uses to mask what he is feeling. There have been so many times in the short while I have been acquainted with this teen that while he has been smiling or joking, there has been something else entirely in his eyes. To be honest now that I know about it I am pretty stunned I have not realized it sooner. It does leave me with some questions about all of the clowning around that Maxwell does. Is this too a tool to hide?

This nagging realization hit me pretty suddenly as I met Maxwell's gaze with a death glare, the baka has been trying to "acclimatize me" to the nickname he had given me almost from day one. I have heard him telling Quatre that if he says it enough times I'll become numb to it and will stop threatening to kill him for it. For his stupidity, I have to admit that it is working somewhat. I used to try and kill him when he called me that, then I began merely threatening to kill him. Nowadays though I simply glare at him... this will have to be a situation I monitor more carefully to prevent any further progression.

I'm not entirely sure why I did it. Perhaps I wanted to test the other after seeing him perform so well in his moves even despite his injuries, or maybe I have been feeling too cooped up with my limited mobility due to my wounds. Whatever the case I did choose to step back into a fighting stance and gestured for Maxwell to come at me.

All speculating aside I did find Maxwell's abilities quite well matched. He, unlike Wufei, who I have sparred with in the past, has a very unconventional style of combat. He seems to mix a broad range of different fighting techniques in with his honed instincts. Of course, Maxwell is nowhere near as good as I am even when recovering but he has potential. Perhaps I'll indulge him in another sparring session later on when I'm better. After all, he can only get better through practicing with a powerful opponent, and pummeling him will satisfy me when he gets annoying again.

01

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for Reading, please feel free to leave me comments about what you thought. I do warn that all flames will be fed to my muse, he is a poor little guy I keep locked in a bird cage so he is a hungry little thing. However I do enjoy hearing what I can do to improve my writing style.
> 
> Cheers  
> KaiZer


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